Walking Dead: The Road Less Travelled
by lonelywaldorf
Summary: Georgie, Adele and the rest of the survivors are travelling across the country looking for safety. But this life has taken its toll on more people than this group of survivors. A Sequel to Dead Winter.
1. Speak

Walking Dead-The Road Less Travelled.

**It's been a while, but I finally found a piece of time to myself to do some writing! If you are new to this, I've written two Stories before this-These Bonds that bind us and Dead Winter. Check them out!**

**Side note-although a lot of the places and situations are my own ideas, some of the events in these stories are lifted from the comics, so be warned some spoilers may occur!**

**Rick**

Rick adjusted the rear view mirror of the car. There was nothing but empty road reflected in it, and he felt a tinge of sadness. This wasn't like leaving the prison, or when they had left the CDC. The hotel had been like home. They'd foreseen themselves living there perhaps permanently. They'd started to build lives there. Relationships had blossomed there, the children had felt safe. They'd all felt safe. And then the feeling of security had been shattered.

They'd had a memorial service for Carol before they left. With no body to bury, they'd simply made a crude cross out of branches and left a marker. Georgie had buried the ring she had retrieved from the leader of the hunters, and Sophie had wordlessly laid down a small bunch of flowers. She had hung onto Georgie's' hand throughout the short ceremony and was now in the back of the car, curled up with Carl, sleeping under a blanket. Georgie was in the passenger's seat her head leaned against the window, finally giving into her need to sleep. She had driven almost none stop for two days, arguing that until they found a good stretch of road, Rick shouldn't start experimenting with driving one handed. Now she was out for the count, her knife and gun on the dashboard, should Rick need to use them.

Rick rubbed his stump across his face. The spring sun was bright, and although it wasn't hot, the sun was shining almost directly into his eyes, making him squint. He'd only been driving for half a day, but he was already shattered. Coupled with his anxiety about where they were-and where they were going-and he was about ready to poke Georgie awake, if only for someone to talk to. Instead, he flipped down the shade, shielding his face from the glare. A photo was tucked into the strap, of a young couple. They were pretty average looking: the woman was too thin and angular, the man unshaven with wild messy hair. The man's arm was wrapped tightly around the woman's shoulder and he was kissing the top of her head. The woman leaned into the man, her hand on his chest, showcasing a simple engagement ring on her ring finger. The photo radiated life and love and happiness. One of them must have owned the car he was driving, a car that Glenn had brought back to life just outside of the hotel. Rick felt a lump come into his throat and pulled the picture off the shade. At first he had been going to screw it up, but instead, he simply threw it into the back.

Lori. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind almost as soon as it surfaced. Ever since he'd made a full recovery from losing his hand, he'd forced himself not to think about her. He needed to move on, to focus on keeping himself and Carl alive, on moving the band of survivors across the country, on stopping their numbers from falling any further. He hadn't had to talk about her with anyone, had found ways to not think about her. But he couldn't prevent what he dreamed about. For the last two nights he'd had the same dream that he was back in Atlanta looking for Morgan and Duane. He walked down the road calling for them, and then heard a door open. He'd turn, expecting to see Morgan, and there was Lori, alive, healthy, beckoning him to come to her. That was the point where he'd jerk awake, covered in a cold sweat.

The flashing of the RV's brake lights shook Rick out of his musings. He slowed to a stop, wondering what was happening.

"Dad?" Carl sat up rubbing his eyes blearily. "Dad, where are we?" Rick placed his hand on Carls shoulder.

"I don't know. I think we're perhaps having a bathroom break. Stay here until I tell you it's safe ok." Rick climbed out of the car, scanning for walkers. When he didn't see any, he stretched up and walked towards the front of the convoy, where T-Dog was. It soon became obvious why they had stopped.

"Gas!" T-Dog grinned, waving his hand at the station. Glenn, Maggie and Miao were already filling plastic containers from the pumps, whilst Andrea and Daryl tended to the vehicles. "Don't know how much will be in there, but this will keep us going for a bit." Rick nodded.

"We need all the power we can get. What's the situation inside?" he jerked his head to the shop. T-Dog shrugged.

"Not sure. We could check it out, but chances are anything useful is long gone."

"The gas is still here," Rick reasoned. "No reason that the food can't still be there too."

"I don't mean from looters. Rick, it's been around a year since the outbreak. Anything that was edible will be growing a new coat of fur by now."

"Not if it's in cans." Adele joined the conversation, her shotgun slung over her shoulder. "Remember all that soup that...that we found in the hotel?" Rick noted how she avoided saying Carols name, showing that the memory was still raw for her. "We need to stock up at every opportunity." Rick sighed.

"Ok. But we're going in without guns. With all this gas around, I really don't want to risk the station going up in flames."

"Fair enough. Where's Georgie?" Rick held his hand up to stop Adele from going any further.

"She's getting some rest. Go in with Daryl, get him to take his crossbow, and you take your sword. Just load up on what you can." Adele nodded and strode purposefully over to Daryl. Remembering his son, Rick walked back to the car. Rapping on the window, he smiled at his son and started to speak, but Carl put his fingers to his lips, and pointed at the front seat. Sophie had clambered over the car seats and was now curled up in Georgie's lap. Georgie must have woken up momentarily, as her arms were wrapped around the young girl. Rick smiled and as quietly as he could, opened the car door to allow his son to move out.

"You ok?" Carl nodded, stretching his arms up to the air.

"Where are we? Are we going to live in the gas station?" Rick shook his head.

"We're just getting some supplies. Gas and maybe some canned food. I don't know if we'll stay here." Carl nodded, biting his lip. Rick felt a flash of concern. "Everything ok son?" Carl looked down at his feet.

"Sophie spoke." Rick started. Sophie hadn't said a single word since the conformation of her mother's death at the hands of the hunters. She'd remained in a comatose state, moving, eating and drinking, but interacting very little with anyone other than Georgie.

"That's a good thing though. What did she say?" Carl looked at his father, seemingly trying to collect his thoughts.

"I think...I think she's sick dad. She said her mama's not dead." The disbelief must have shown on Ricks face as Carl rushed to explain. "I wanted her to talk to me, so I said I knew why she was so sad, because we both have dead mums and then she started to cry and she said 'My mama's not dead, she's sleeping.' And then she pointed at Georgie and said 'see she's right there, she's not dead,' and she woke her up. Georgie gave her a hug and then they went to sleep again. But Georgie's not her mama. Carol is, and Carol's dead." Carl looked at Rick in confusion. "Why did Sophie say Georgie's her mum? Why doesn't she remember Carol?"

Rick was too stunned to answer, for a moment, he couldn't even think. Collecting himself, he tried to find the words to rationally explain the turn of events to his son, but before he could, Ben's voice cut across the air.

"Rick, can you give us some help with these gas cans? We could do with loading some into your car." Rick looked up.

"Just, just a minute Ben." He looked at Carl, who had bewilderment written across his face. "I don't know. I don't know what Sophie's feeling or thinking now. I can ask Ben, he'll know better than me. Look, why don't we leave them to sleep for a while. You go play with Harry and I'll ask Ben what he thinks." Carl looked unconvinced, but walked to Daryl's truck, where Harry and Matthew were sat in the back, chatting amongst themselves. Rick looked into the front seat where the two girls were sleeping. Both looked peaceful and he hadn't the heart to wake either one of them. He made his way over to Ben.

"If you can just grab a couple and load them in your trunk Rick, we'll be made." Ben looked up and saw Ricks face clearly. "Wow...what's up?"

Rick sighed, looked back at the car and then back to Ben. "We need to talk about Sophie."

**Quick note. **

**I read the Walking Dead comics, so a lot of the things that happen are linked to events in the comics-so Rick DOES lose his hand (but not to the hunters) and Sophie DOES repress her memories of Carol, but takes Maggie and Glenn on her parental figures. So, as previously stated, this could present spoilers. **


	2. Movement

**Adele**

Adele pulled the cans off the shelves. Tomatoes, chickpeas, tuna, some sort of canned meat. She grimaced. Not exactly fine eating, but at least they'd be able to eat something. She piled it into the rucksack she'd taken from the RV, every now and then pausing to listen for movement from within the gas station. At the moment, all she could hear was Daryl rummaging through the various items at the other end of the store, looking for weapons or tools.

They hadn't seen any walkers since the one that had come out of the woods at her and Andrea, but that didn't mean that they weren't around. She knew that as well as anyone, and hadn't needed Daryl to mutter it at her as they entered the station. She lugged the heavy rucksack out of the building and dumped it outside next to the RV. She could see Ben and Rick deep in conversation, and stood up watching them. Ben seemed deep in thought, more listening to Rick then actually speaking, whilst Rick was more animated. Adele leant her head to one side. He didn't seem angry, just confused more than anything. After a moment, Ben put his hand on Ricks shoulder and the pair of them walked down the convoy to the car Rick had been driving. Adele was about to walk after them, when she heard Daryl's angry voice.

"Stop daydreamin' an start hauling." Adele glared at him.

"I'll just unload this stuff into the RV if that's ok with you, _BOSS_." She lifted up the rucksack, making a show of turning her back on the redneck and clambered into the RV, where they were storing most of the food.

"Hey Adele." Dale was stretched out on the sofas, his hat pulled down over his eyes. "Found anything good?"

"Tinned meat and tomatoes. Not particularly thrilling, but better than nothing." Adele started to pull out cans and place them in cupboards, which were already reassuringly full. She turned to look at Dale. "Thanks again for letting me and Ben ride with you and Andrea. I know it must feel like we're invading your space." Dale waved a hand.

"Least I could do, after the way I treated you at the hotel. Besides, it's not that bad. It means me and Andrea don't have to drive for so long and we get to rest a little longer. And I think Andrea likes the company. You know, young company." Adele smiled. Even though they tended to travel in relative silence, she and Andrea had passed the time by conversing in whispers. Nothing of major importance, but the normality of it had helped Adele. Dale lifted his hat off his head and sat up straighter. "How's Georgie? She still sticking with Rick?" Adele nodded.

"Yeah, she's helping him with Carl and that. She didn't want him driving with his stump, so she's helping him adjust. Once he's sorted, she said she'd probably ride with us or T-Dog and Miao-obviously if that's ok with you?"

"Sure. We all agreed we'd switch it up a bit as we drove on, give us all a chance to drive the different cars and give us all a break." Dale tactfully didn't ask the question that Adele herself had been wondering ever since her conversation with Georgie. Why not ride with Daryl and the boys? Whilst Georgie had been as open with her as she use to be when they roomed together back in England, when Adele had asked what the issue with Daryl was, she had become strangely evasive. Adele couldn't figure it out.

Before she could mull it over any further, she was abruptly pulled from her musings by the sound of gunfire and Glenn yelling. Both she and Dale raced out of the RV and looked wildly around.

A walker lay not 10 feet away from the truck Harry, Carl and Matthew were sat in. It was bleeding from it's head-a sure sign it had not long been turned. Harry had his hands over his ears and seemed in shock. Matthew was stood in the back of the truck, a gun in his hand. Adele realised he must have taken out the walker. Rick and Ben came running past, both with guns drawn, T-Dog and Daryl were already approaching the body, but even from the RV, Adele knew it wasn't a threat anymore.

As Rick approached the truck, Carl clambered out of it. He seemed shaken, but not hysterical as Rick patted him down to see if he was ok. Adele wondered if he had just gotten use to the death that surrounded them now. The thought made her feel sad, like the last piece of innocence in the world had been burnt to ash. T-Dog moved away from the body and called out.

"OK time to move on. There could be one, there could be hundreds. The gunshot could draw them nearer, lets go. You know the signal to show when everyone is in your vehicle, let's move people."

Adele turned back into the RV, followed by Andrea and Dale. Ben was the last in, and moved to the driver's seat, sticking a old shirt out of the window to signal that everyone was in. Adele moved to the passenger's seat and whispered to him

"What was up with Rick before? Why the hush, hush conversation?" Ben frowned and started the engine.

"I'll tell you when we're clear of the station. Just let me drive for now ok?" He turned to her. She must have looked annoyed, because he leant forward and kissed her on the forehead. "I promise, I'll tell you everything, I always do. Just, catch some shuteye for now." Adele had to be satisfied with this, and leant back in the passenger's seat to rest, briefly wondering where they would be when she woke and how long they would stay there.


	3. Discovery

**T-Dog**

T-Dog swung his arms around his body and twisted his neck. "Dam it feels good to be outta that car!" He turned and extended his hand out to Miao. She smiled and took his hand as she got out of the car.

"Why thank you kind sir." She stretched her arms out to the side as T-Dog casually wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He looked around at the clearing that they had stopped in. Again, they had chosen a location in sight of, but not too close to the city. What city it was, T-Dog had no idea. The sign advertising it's name had been torn down, peppered with bullet holes and smeared with blood. It was on top of a hill, giving a good vantage point in case walkers advanced. Trees surrounded them, which meant there might be some sort of game or food for them to hunt. Hopefully, they would be able to find a lake, like they had in Atlanta, or a river for water. He supposed that they would have to scope the area before they got too comfortable. Everyone was slightly jumpy after the encounter with the walker at the gas station the previous day. Personally, he had been impressed with how Matthew had handled it. The boy may only be young, but he had held and shot the gun like a man.

"Earth to T-Dog." Miao's voice brought him back to the present. He looked down at her and blinked. She nodded her head to the left and he looked to where she indicated. Georgie and Andrea were standing there, gun and crossbow in hand. Andrea held up an extra gun.

"Ready to check this place out?" T-Dog sighed and nodded. Kissing the top of Miao's head he leant down to her ear.

"Be back in a bit." She looked at him, her eyes full of concern. He squeezed her shoulder, trying to reassure her, then held out his hand to catch the gun Andrea threw at him.

"Where's Sophie?" He directed the question at Georgie.

"Glenn and Maggie have her. She'll be ok for two or three hours."

"Oh cool. How come Daryl's not coming with us?"

"His shoulders still really bad. He's not as quick on the draw as he use to be." Andrea spoke before Georgie responded. "He's looking at the guns with Rick, maintenance and such."

"Fair enough." T-Dog stopped at the edge of the trees. "What are we actually doing, just so I'm clear."

"Looking for signs of walkers, signs of water and signs of food. In that order." Andrea raised her gun, ready to fire. Georgie's crossbow was already loaded. T-Dog smiled grimly and raised his gun. The three of them entered the forest spreading out a little to cover more ground. T-Dog could see Andrea to his right, and knew that to her right again, Georgie was walking stealthily.

They moved through the forest in silence, all alert, all watching, listening. There was a time when this sort of activity would have torn T-Dogs nerves to shreds. But he had become harder and stronger, and now his heart rate remained calm and his hands were steady.

They'd been walking through the woods for a good while-for how long exactly, T-Dog couldn't say, his concept of time was useless-when he heard something. It wasn't the rustle of prey, or thankfully a walker. It was something much better. He stopped in his tracks and beckoned Andrea over, who in turn beckoned Georgie over.

"Can you hear that?" T-Dog watched their faces as they registered what he was hearing.

"Water!" Georgie's face broke into a smile as she heard the gentle lapping and rippling of water. Following the sound the three soon came across a clear flowing brook. Kneeling down, T-Dog scooped up some of the water and looked at it carefully.

"It looks clean enough, but we'll boil it just to be sure anyway." He stood up satisfied. "At least that's one thing sorted."

Andrea nodded. She looked around. "What do you think Georgie? I haven't seen any signs of walkers or anything like that." Georgie seemed lost in thought for a moment.

"I think it's ok. We've been walking for about an hour and a half. And I can hear all sorts of birds and things."

"So?" T-Dog felt mystified. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Have you never noticed how the animals seem to disappear whenever there are walkers around? It's like they know that something's not quite right."

T-Dog rolled his eyes. He wouldn't have thought Georgie would have been into all that hippy stuff, but Andrea seemed to buy it. She pointed downstream, back to the direction of the camp. "Why don't we see how close it goes to the camp? I don't like the idea of walking an hour and a half for water."

The three of them made their way down along the waters edge, still alert for any sign of movement or disturbance. They hadn't been walking for long when T-Dog noticed something that made his heart stop. He put his hand out and stopped the two women.

"Look." He pointed into the forest, towards a shape on the ground. A piece of clothing, half covered by leaves and dirt. Cautiously, they approached it, T-Dog fearing the worst.

It was a lightweight jacket, either a small mans or a reasonably sized woman. It was filthy, and had probably been out in the woods for a few months. Apart from being filthy, it was in reasonably good condition, no tears, and most importantly, no blood. But what was it doing out in the middle of nowhere? T-Dog felt a pang of unease. Had the wearer simply taken it off and abandoned it because of the heat? Was it something more sinister? Andrea was examining the ground around it, looking for clues as to what had happened. T-Dog glanced up at Georgie.

"What do you think?" Georgie chewed her lip.

"I don't know. It doesn't look like it's been dumped recently."

"There's no blood here either." Andrea took the jacket off T-Dog and examined it. "It looks like it was just...abandoned." The three of them looked uneasily at each other. Andrea spoke first. "What do we do? Should we advise everyone to move on?"

Georgie looked uncertain. "You know what, I don't know." She sat back on her heels and thought for a moment. "I think our only option is that we just tell the truth and let the camp come to a decision." T-Dog nodded his agreement, as did Andrea. The three of them go to their feet, Andrea holding onto the jacket, and made their way back to camp.

The brook-or river as it turned into further along-came out 20 minutes away from the camp. It turned out it was almost at a direct right angle at the foot of the hill. It just meant that there would be a 20 minute hard slog uphill with the water, which as Maggie pointed out when they explained this, was still better than a three or four hour round trip for water. The prospect of water and the possibility of fresh meat rather than tinned raised everyone's spirit. When Andrea produced the jacket however, the camp went silent. After she had explained how they had come across it, everyone automatically turned to Rick.

"Do you think...do you think it's more cannibals?" Glenn spoke first. Adele made a small derisive noise.

"What are the chances of that, seriously. Anyway, if it was cannibals, there'd be blood on the jacket." She turned around and looked at Rick. "I don't think there's a problem. It's old. There's no danger. There's no sign of struggle or violence. I think we'll be fine here." No one else seemed convinced. Finally Rick spoke.

"This doesn't fit any type of violence we've encountered before. I'm with Adele on this one. But, I understand if everyone else feels the need to pack up the cars and move on. We'll do this the old fashioned way. All those who want to leave?"

T-Dog looked around, expecting to see a unanimous vote to move on. Instead, everyone looked unsure. T-Dog could see how tired everyone was, how fed up they were of moving. Even after all they had been through, people were still willing to take a risk. Rick nodded.

"Looks like we're staying. Well, ok then. If we're going to stay, I suggest that we keep all the kids close. Yes even you Matthew." Daryl snorted. Rick shot him a look. "I mean it Daryl. Harry, Matthew, Sophie, Carl, they all stay close to the camp. No hunting trips, no letting them wonder off. We've lost too much already."

"Can't see what th problem is. Like blondie said, ain't no tracks. It's old news. Nothing's here except us an the animals."

"Even so." Rick spoke firmly. "We're not taking the risk." He looked Daryl directly in the face. "You hear me?" Daryl swallowed and started to square up to Rick.

"Don't think ya can tell me what ta do with my boys."

"Listen, what I say is for the good of them. If you won't take measures to look after them..."

"Ya sayin I can't take care of 'em? That I'm not as good as ya, jus cause I ain't their real dad? Think ya better then me?" Daryl was right in Ricks face now, and T-Dog suddenly realised with a start that Daryl was about ready to hit Rick, and that Rick was ready to strike back.

"Whoa, come on man. Rick's got a point." He reached his arm out to try to separate the two. He looked at Daryl. "What the hells wrong with you man? Chill!" Daryl breathed deeply and for a moment, T-Dog thought he was going to receive the first punch from him. In despair he turned to Georgie.

"Georgie, a little help?" At first, Georgie didn't move, but when Daryl carried on staring Rick down, she got up and pushed herself in front of Rick.

"Ok, break it up gents. Enough is enough." She placed her hand on Ricks chest and pushed him away. T-Dog shook Daryl's shoulders and the man seemed to come back to his senses. Shaking him off, Daryl strode away. T-Dog considered walking after him, but decided against it. He'd not seen his friend this angry in a long time, and he wasn't sure what the result would be if he tried to reason with him. He felt a hand slip into his and turned to see Miao.

"What happened there?" T-Dog wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

"I have no idea. I don't know what's going on anymore." He picked her up off her feet and kissed her firmly. Planting her back on the ground, he placed his forehead to hers. "Baby. Don't go wondering off far from the camp alone. Not until I've taught you how to shoot a gun. Promise?"

Miao nodded solemnly. "I promise. You don't have to worry about me, I promise."


	4. Medicine

**Glenn**

Glenn removed his helmet and surveyed the area. After the discovery of the jacket three days ago, everyone had been a bit jumpy, unwilling to stray too far from the relative safety of the camp. It had taken Glenn most of the morning to persuade first Rick and then Maggie to allow him to investigate the city for medical supplies, which they were in desperate need of. He'd borrowed Adele's leather jacket, taken Daryl's bike and helmet and ridden to the outskirts of town. Experience told him that the walkers tended to congregate near the centre, but he didn't want to risk alerting them with the noise of the motor. He took a moment to take in the surroundings. There was no sign of life anywhere. Even in Atlanta there had been the odd body, decomposed beyond the point of reanimation, a stray dog or cat nervously wondering around. But here, there was nothing. It felt eerily quiet.

In an attempt to make himself feel better, he shrugged his shoulders and placed his helmet back on his head. There was no time to waste. He had to make every minute count if he wanted to be able to go back with something to report. The truth was, he had been bored in the hotel. He'd had nothing to do in the hotel beyond baby sit the kids and chill out with Maggie. And whilst that had started off as being almost absolute bliss, he had come to realise that he missed feeling useful. He couldn't shot or fight much, but he had always been good at scoping out new areas and scavenging food and supplies-something that he hadn't needed to do in the hotel as pretty much everything they had needed had been in the hotel. But out in the middle of nowhere, it was clear that he would need to pull his weight by looking for the essentials around the city.

He covered the bike with leaves and branches. He wasn't sure why, it wasn't like there was any evidence that there was anyone around to steal it, but he did it anyway. Then he moved down the road into the city.

Like Atlanta, the road out of the city was full of deserted cars. Glenn nervously placed his hand on the small shot gun that T-Dog had handed him before he left. He glanced into a few of the cars, but there seemed to be no sign of walkers. That didn't make him feel much better and he remained on high alert as he walked into the outskirts.

To his right, he noticed a sign with directions for the local hospital and train station. He smiled grimly. Almost too good to be true he thought to himself. He examined the sign, which instructed him to take the next left. He took a deep breath. The streets had been deserted so far, but if there were going to be walkers anywhere, it would be in the hospital. In particular, the morgue.

He crept along the street, both relieved and spooked out by the silence. This felt like the calm before the storm, like something bad was about to happen. But nothing did. No walkers, no explosions, nothing.

He arrived at the gate of the hospital relatively quickly. Like most hospitals Glenn had seen, it bore the marks of particularly vicious walker attacks, and the evidence of the Governments attempts to wipe out the disease. Bodies lay scattered on the grass and drive, all rotted and decayed, all with the same trademark shot to the head. A few were military personnel, still with guns and other weapons. Glenn took a mental note, and resolved to persuade Rick to let him come back with others to collect more ammo. Moving through the bodies, he made his way to the hospital doors. He peered through the glass door. The overturned chairs, smashed windows and computer and the splattering of blood on every surface confirmed what the bodies outside had hinted at. Glenn shuddered and tried not to think about what had happened there.

Moving into the building, Glenn took a quick check of all doors and the rooms beyond them. All doors were open, all rooms were empty. As he moved into the corridor, he again noted the silence, eerie and foreboding. He felt a little sick to his stomach, and his legs felt shaky. He couldn't stop peering into the rooms, looking for the walkers. He almost wished that one would just jump out at him, and break the suspense.

Finally he found what he was looking for, the pharmacy. He put his ear to the door: no sound. He pulled his gun out of the holster, took off the safety and took a deep breath. Pushing the door open he pointed the gun blindly into the room, expecting there to be walkers all over the place.

But it was empty. No walkers lunged for him, no hands grabbed at his legs. Rather than calming him down, this simply made Glenn more anxious. Where were they? They couldn't have all disappeared. He forced himself not to dwell on it, as he pulled packets and bottles of tablets off the shelves without bothering to read the labels. Ben had enough medical knowledge to be able to tell what was good for what. He just wanted to leave and get back to camp.

Once the rucksack was full, he swung it over onto his back and stuck his head out into the hall. A noise from the stairs made him start, and he tensed, ready to run. But it was just a rat, scuttling down the stairs. Somehow, that made him feel better, like he wasn't the only thing living left in the building. Still, he decided to make a move back to the bike as fast as he could.

Moving through the city, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He tried to shake off the feeling, convince himself that this was just him being paranoid, that he was still anxious from the whole cannibal episode. But as he moved through the city, he was convinced he could feel a pair of eyes burning into his back.

He finally reached the bike and looked around, searching for the invisible watcher. For a moment, he thought he saw a glint in the distance, a reflection of light off glass. But it was too brief for him to be sure. Shrugging it off, he mounted the bike and rode back to camp, to report his find and share his haul.


	5. Decision

"So, you're saying that you didn't see anything? No walkers, no people, just an empty city?" Rick's forehead creased in confusion and he rubbed his head with his stump. Glenn tried not to stare at it; he still hadn't gotten use to the fact that Rick was one handed now.

"Nothing. It was kind of creepy." Glenn attempted to sound blasé about his trip, but he knew he wasn't fooling anyone. Beside Rick, Andrea looked concerned, and murmured something to Dale, who nodded his agreement. Rick looked to his left at T-Dog, who looked grim. No one said anything. After a moments silence, save the crackling of the fire they were gathered around, Glenn spoke up again.

"There's something wrong with this place Rick. It doesn't feel right. I know that sounds dumb or whatever, but it's what I think." Rick seemed about to speak when Adele butted in.

"Glenn, it's not that I don't value your opinion, but that's all you've got: an opinion. Maybe the walkers are on the other side of the city. Maybe they went elsewhere for food. Maybe the Government wiped them out here. We don't know. We can't just assume that it's something bad." She paused for a moment, looking at Ben for support. He nodded and squeezed her hand. She turned to Rick and the others before she carried on. "So there are no walkers here. Isn't that a good thing? Isn't that why we stayed at the hotel for so long? I know this might seem like too good to be true, but maybe we're just due a break."

"I think maybe what Glenn means," Rick interjected gently, "is that perhaps we need to not let ourselves get too comfortable around here, just because it seems safe. No-one's saying we need to move on just yet..."

"Aren't they?" Dale stood up. "Quite frankly Rick, I can't help but think that I'd prefer to know where the enemy is."

"Ya have gotta be kidin' me." Daryl spoke up from the edge of the grouping. Glenn jumped. Over the past few days, Daryl had hardly interacted with anyone in the group, save occasionally T-Dog. He'd seem in a persistent bad mood, and even Harry and Matthew seemed to be tip toeing around him. He was now glaring at Dale, and seemed ready to pick another fight. "What, the Asian gets a funny feelin' in his big toe an ya'll are all ready to pack up n leave? Blondies right. If ya'll had any sense ya'd stay here."

Glenn felt hurt. He and Daryl had never been best friends, but since Atlanta they'd been getting on well. Now it seemed like Daryl had returned to holding him in complete contempt. The camp waited for Daryl to expand on his thoughts, but he simply went back to staring into the fire. Glenn glanced around the fire. Most people looked uncertain, pondering over the information that Glenn had brought back along with the medical supplies. Maggie shuffled closer to him and leant in to whisper in his ear.

"Whatever the rest of the camp decide, if you want to leave, I'll go with you. You know that, don't you?" Glenn put his arm around her and smiled. He felt better knowing Maggie was on his side no matter what, but he also was certain that he wouldn't be able to leave the rest of the camp. He looked at Georgie-the only one on the council who hadn't voiced an opinion as of yet. She was leaning back against a log that T-Dog and Andrea and pulled out of the woods the previous day to use as a bench. Her eyes were half closed, and Glenn couldn't tell if she was listening to the conversation, or keeping an ear on the tent where Sophie, Carl and Harry were sleeping. He decided to get her opinion.

"Georgie. What do you think? Should we stay or should we go?" Georgie started, and Glenn realised she had been half asleep. She rubbed her eyes and looked confused for a moment. Then she seemed to pull herself together, glancing from Daryl, to Adele, to Dale then back at Glenn, as if she was trying to figure out who she should side with.

"Well...I agree with you all I guess. I mean, I don't want to get back into the car and drive for another two or three days. But this place is weird." She leant forward and messed with her hands. "I don't think moving on so soon would be good for the kids." Glenn glanced at Rick. Everyone knew that by that, she meant Sophie. Sophie had started talking again around the time they'd left the gas station, much to everyone's relief. Worryingly though, she was referring to Georgie as her mother, with apparently no memory of Carol or Ed. This had affected Georgie deeply, who saw it as a betrayal to Carol to allow Sophie to forget her, but Ben explained that Sophie may be repressing her memories to protect herself for a while, until she was ready to deal with what she had been through. Whilst this had eased Georgie's guilt, it was evident she was not happy being called mum by Sophie.

"So what do we do?" Rick leant forward and looked Georgie in the eye. Georgie shrugged.

"I don't know. Without knowing more about the area, we can't make an informed decision."

"Well there's your answer then." Andrea sat up straighter, as everyone turned to her. "Go back into the city as a group and investigate it more thoroughly. Some of us stay here, some of us go and figure out what's going on. Then we can make our decision. If nothing else, we can get some of those guns Glenn told us about." Glenn could see the group nodding in agreement. "One visit isn't really enough to ascertain how risky this area is or not. So instead of running away, let's find out what we are-or aren't-up against before we make any moves."

"Sounds like a plan." Rick nodded his agreement. "How many of us should go? Obviously Glenn will be leading." Glenn heard Maggie give a sharp intake of breath. He knew she didn't want him to go, and that he would have to comfort her later.

"It was my idea, so I'll go." Andrea raised her hand almost immediately.

"I'll come too." Dale ignored the snort from Daryl. Rick nodded.

"Georgie, Adele? What about you two?" Adele nodded her agreement, but Georgie shook her head.

"Count me out for this one. I'll stay behind and keep an eye on things. Look after Sophie and that." Rick nodded understandingly.

"I'll go." Daryl spoke again. "I'm not stayin behind ta babysit. Got _my_priorities right." He shot a dirty look at Georgie as he said this, who made an obvious effort to ignore him.

"Well that's sorted then." Rick stood up. "Tomorrow, T-Dog, Glenn, Adele, Andrea, Daryl and Dale go into the city and have a proper look around. Georgie, Ben, Maggie, Miao and I will stay behind to keep an eye on camp and the kids."

"And me." Matthew spoke up suddenly. "I can help you in the city."

"No way." It wasn't just Rick who answered Matt, but the majority of the camp. Rick continued. "No one doubts that you're a good shot and valuable in a tight spot, but you're too young. You'd be better off here." Matthew looked at Daryl pleadingly, but the hick shook his head.

"Ai got enough to worry 'bout without havin ta worry about ya an Harry. Stay here."

"But..."

"Ya stayin here." Daryl looked away from Matthew, indicating that the conversation was over. Before Matthew looked down, Glenn caught a flash of an expression that seemed defiant on his face. He resolved to make sure that they checked for stowaways the next morning.

"Well." Dale stood up stiffly. "Best get ourselves off to bed. We need to be fresh for tomorrow." The camp got up slowly, one by one and went to their respective tents. Glenn and Maggie were the last to leave. Glenn turned to Maggie to attempt to comfort her, but was horrified to see tears rolling down her face.

"Hey, hey." He wrapped his arm around her, hugging her to him. "I'll be ok. I always am." Maggie sniffed.

"I don't care. I wish you weren't going. I don't like you going straight into danger like this. Let the others go alone."

"I have to go, I'm the only one that knows the way." He put his other arm around her and squeezed tight. "I promise, if I think I'm in danger, I'll run all the way back to you, ok?" Maggie smiled wanly.

"No you won't. You wouldn't abandon anyone in danger. Rick told me how you two met." She kissed him gently. "It's one of the things I love about you. You're so loyal." She wiped her eyes roughly and stood up. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in a minute?" She went to their tent, rubbing her arms against the early spring chill, leaving Glenn to think about his task the next day, and the fact that he though Maggie might have told him that she loved him.


	6. Fire

**Ben**

Even though she tried to move silently, Ben awoke as soon as Adele slipped out from under his arm and crawled out of the sleeping bag. He remained silent, and watched through half opened eyes as Adele felt around the tent for her clothes. The scars on her back stood out in contrast to her pale skin, and he had to fight the urge to reach out and trace them with his fingers. He usually only did this when Adele was asleep- when she was awake, she rolled onto her back so he couldn't see the scars, embarrassed by them. He often wondered if she thought he'd be repulsed by them. She probably did. In reality, he was fascinated by them, and what they told him about her life before he met her. He'd asked her many questions, and she'd given him brief answers, but it was obvious that there was much more to her past then she would let on.

He shifted on the floor slightly, and saw her turn her head. He lay still again. She wanted to leave stealthily, so he would let her. She had a superstition, of sorts, that if she didn't say goodbye, she would survive to come back and say it to him. If he woke up to talk to her, she wouldn't be as confident when she was out and he wanted her to be on her guard and to come back safe to him. So he lay still and waited til she had crawled out of the tent, speaking quietly to someone outside.

"See you later," he murmured. He rolled onto his stomach and stared at the tent wall. He tried to relax and drift back off to sleep, but he couldn't sleep now that Adele had left. He sighed and examined his nails. He may as well get up now; he certainly wasn't going to be able to rest. He sat and looked through the flap of the tent. It was daylight outside, and Adele and whoever she was speaking to, had moved on. He could hear the hum of the truck and car engines as they moved off. He shuffled to the tent opening and looked out, to see if anyone else was up. Georgie, Maggie and Miao were gathered around the ashes of the previous nights camp fire chatting. Rick was stood a little way off from them, looking down a dirt track, presumably in the direction that the others had driven off in. The children were sat nearby, watched over by a sulky looking Matthew. Ben realised that he and Adele must have slept in, and pulled the closet t-shirt he could find on. Pulling himself out of the tent, he moved towards Rick.

"Everyone ok?" Rick nodded.

"T-Dog and Adele have got it covered. Glenn's leading them in. Then he, Andrea and Dale are going to collect ammunition from the bodies, whilst Adele, Daryl and T-Dog scope out the inside, check for anything strange. Hopefully Daryl'll get to shoot something and snap out of that mood he's in." Ben laughed, but cut himself short when he realised Rick was serious. He looked towards Matthew.

"How's Matthew?"

"Still sulking. Tried to sneak into the boot of the car. Luckily Glenn was onto him. So he's not talking to anyone now." Matthew looked at Ben, and seeing him watching, glowered impressively. Ben wanted to laugh, but decided against it. Instead, he bit the inside of his cheek and looked away.

"So what are we going to do until they get back?" Rick turned around and started to walk to the campfire. Ben followed. He'd never been the right hand man before, usually it was T-Dog that Rick gave his instructions to. It was a novel experience, and he was going to take advantage of it.

"Scavenge. Get wood, vegetation. That sort of thing." He looked at the top of the RV. "Adele said you're getting pretty handy with a gun. You can be lookout. You see anything dead coming out of those trees, you shoot it. Georgie's gonna go into the woods with Miao. Me and Maggie will stay close to camp, set some stuff up."

"So you don't think there's anything to worry about in the city then?" Rick shrugged.

"I don't know. I just figured that we should put some of those cans on strings up. Just to keep us safe for the day." Ben nodded. He could see the sense in that. As he got closer to the fire, he could see that the women were not just chatting, but were also attaching metal cans to a piece of washing line, liberated from a shop they'd raided a few days ago. A band aid around Maggie's finger suggested that this was a skill that needed to be picked up quickly. Seeing the men approach, Maggie held up the cans to show Rick.

"Do you think this will be enough? We've used up most of the rope, and all the empty cans. Rick nodded.

"We'll empty more cans. We'll put these up now." Georgie nodded and stood up.

" I'll get my bow. Me and Miao can get looking for...oh man!" She started to shake her foot. "Pins and needles, pins and needles, ah!" She winced as she put pressure on her foot. Maggie laughed.

"The great warrior Georgie Powell, floored by a numb leg." Georgie gave a good natured grin, and started to limp towards her tent. Maggie scooped up an armful of cans and turned to Rick.

"Where are we starting?" Ben left the three of them discussing the best places to put the cans, and moved towards the RV, where two shotguns were leant against the vehicles. As he picked one up, he was struck by a sudden thought.

"Matthew." The boy turned and stared angrily at Ben. "Come help me keep look out on the RV. You're probably a better shot than me anyway." The boys face lightened, and he looked at his brother and his friends. "Don't worry about them, we can watch them from up here." The boy trotted over and scooped up a gun. "I'll go up first, then you pass up two of those plastic chairs from inside."

As they made themselves comfortable, Georgie re emerged from her tent, minus her dead leg and carrying her crossbow. She and Miao waved at the two on the RV before they moved into the forest. Rick and Maggie started to tie the cans to the trees, and the children abandoned their play to 'help', although as far as Ben could see, they were far more of a hindrance. Sophie didn't seem as involved as the others, continually looking into the trees in the direction Georgie had gone. Ben supposed she was anxious that she couldn't see her. He truly believed that somewhere in her subconscious, Sophie did remember her mother and father, but was finding the amount of loss she had witnessed hard to cope with. Her attachment to Georgie was probably her minds way of trying to make sure she never suffered with such a loss again: from what he could tell, she must see Georgie as the one most likely to survive. He sat back in the chair and scanned the trees. He couldn't see anything. He looked over at Matthew. He was sat forward in his chair, watching the woods intensely. Ben could almost see his need to prove himself as an adult, sense his need to be taken seriously. He decided that if there was a shot Matthew could make, he should let him take it. Why not let him have a moment?

They spent most of the day up on the RV. Matthew was a quiet boy anyway, and he and Ben were not close. The only conversation they had, was in the late afternoon, when the trees rustled for a moment, and Matthew raised his shotgun.

"Wait." Ben placed his hand on the muzzle, and they paused, hand in mouth. Then they heard Miao's voice cheerily announcing her arrival. As she pushed the branches aside, Matthew lowered his gun sheepishly. Ben gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it. We all get jumpy now and then. Just, learn to be patient. Think before you fire."

"Yeah." Matthew relaxed back into his chair. "That's what Daryl's always saying." Ben raised an eyebrow, but didn't respond. Instead, he called down to Miao.

"Where's Georgie?"

"Tracking a deer." Miao squinted as she looked up into Bens face. "She's pretty excited about it. Said she might be able to find a herd."

"Awesome." Ben couldn't help but grin at the idea of fresh meat. "Sounds like this might not be such a bad place after all if there's going to be fresh food." No sooner were the words out of his mouth, then he heard the sound of car engines approaching them. Maggie shot out of her tent.

"They're back!" She half walked half ran towards the sound, and started to wave as the cars approached. Matthew shimmied down the ladder, and Ben stood up to follow him. But suddenly, he saw Maggie's face change, from relief, to shock and then horror. He turned to see what she was looking at.

The car had barely stopped when the door was flung open. Glenn shot out, pure panic covering his face.

"Ben! Ben, get over her NOW!" Ben scrambled down the ladder and ran towards the car, fearing the worse.

"What, what's happened." Then he saw Adele. Her face was contorted in pain, and she held a rag to her face, which was saturated in blood. His heart stopped.

"What happened? Let me see are you ok? Oh god, what happened?" He went to peel away the rag, and saw that her hands were red and burnt. "SHIT" He started to pull her to the RV, but to his bewilderment, she pulled away.

"I'm ok, I'm fine. Please, you need to..." she broke off, gasping in pain, as she wrenched her hand from his, and skin peeled from her hands. Before he could try to convince her to let him look at her injuries, he heard the truck screech to a halt behind them, and an unearthly screaming filled the air.

Andrea and Dale leapt out of the front, and raced around to the back, T-Dog kicked down the flap. The screaming was coming from the trunk, and it sounded human. Glenn raced to Ben and pulled him towards the truck. Ben suddenly felt sick to his stomach, as it clicked who was screaming.

"We were ambushed. They had traps, they were waiting for us. There was gasoline, they..." Glenn stared at Ben, his face showing so many emotions, Ben couldn't keep up. "They _set__him__on__fire_." Rick had run past the two of them, a blanket in his arms and was at the truck, helping to move something-someone-onto a make shift stretcher. T-Dog jumped out of the truck and grabbed one end, Andrea the other. As they moved toward Ben, he could make out the figure in the blanket, and could see the extent of the damage.

Daryl seemed to have exhausted himself, and was now lying with his eyes closed. His left arm, the side of his neck, and a great deal of the left side of his chest were burnt. Some of the skin had already started to peel away, and red and white bloody blisters were forming. Some had already burnt, leaking fluid down his arm. Ben's stomach turned. These were second degree burns, which needed cleaning as soon as possible. If he didn't attend to them, they would become infected, cause blood poisoning-Daryl could lose the arm. He turned to Adele and scooped her into a hug.

"I'll be with you as soon as possible, I promise." Then he snapped into action.

"T-Dog, Andrea, get him into the R.V. Dale, clear the table and get some belts to tie him down. Glenn, grab as many bandages and antiseptic as you can. Soak three rolls of bandages in the antiseptic. Maggie, take Adele, clean her hands with some water, run it over them. Miao, take the kids away from here, they don't need to see this." He marched behind the group and picked up a knife from a pile that Georgie had been sharpening that morning. Georgie. He stood up and looked into the woods. Shit. Should he send someone into the woods to look for her? Before he could think about it, Rick had picked up a handgun and was walking to the woods.

"I'll bring Georgie back. Doesn't matter about fresh meat now. She can't wonder off by herself." He melted into the trees before anyone could protest. Ben didn't stop to dwell on whether Rick and Georgie would come back. Right now, they had a better chance then Daryl did if he didn't get moving. He gritted his teeth and moved into the RV.

T-Dog and Andrea had set Daryl on the table, and Dale had tied his good arm to his leg with a belt. T-Dog was talking to Daryl-whether to sooth him, or to piss him off enough that he would want to stay alive just to beat the shit out of him later. Either way, Daryl had become more vocal again. He approached the table, knife in hand.

On closer inspection, the burns were worse then he thought. They covered not just the left side of the chest, but most of it, and extended down the top of his left thigh. On the outside of his arm, the skin was stiff, leathery, dead. Ben groaned. He'd have to cut that skin away and hope for the best. The scar would be ugly, but at least Daryl would be alive. He turned to Dale.

"Open the windows." He looked at T-Dog. "Hold him down." T-Dog slapped Daryl on the check, and pressed down on the un-burnt part of Daryl's chest. Ben put the knife on Daryl's chest, and ripped away at the shirt, removing it, and some of his skin. Daryl cursed and screamed, and would have probably punched Ben in the nose had his arm not been strapped down. "Sorry Daryl," Ben muttered. "It's going to get a lot worse." He looked at Andrea, who looked pale and green. "Get out." He didn't need anyone fainting. "If you're staying, breath through your mouth." He moved to the third degree burn, the dead skin. He placed the knife to the skin. He looked at T-Dog. "You ok?" T-Dog nodded grimly. Ben waited til Andrea pulled the door shut. Then, he started to operate, praying that he wouldn't screw up, and that Daryl would be ok.

**I have no idea if I was accurate in my treatment of burns, so please don't get mad at my lack of medical knowledge! **


	7. Horror

**Again, please bear with my poor medical knowledge! Thanks! And Please review, I love reviews!**

**Dale**

Dale sat on one of the plastic chairs by the camp fire and studied his hands intently. He didn't know what else to do. For the past four days, no one seemed to know what to do. The ferocity and sheer cruelness of the attack on Daryl at the hospital had left everyone shaken and speechless. The clearing, which had seemed secure and safe, now felt menacing and cluster phobic. No one dared leave the perimeters of the camp and everyone was on high alert, waiting for the mysterious attackers at the hospital. No one wanted to stay, but with Daryl in the near critical state he was in, it was unsafe to move him. They had agreed to remain in the clearing until Daryl was recovered.

Or until he died.

Dale sighed. Once they had cleared and cleaned Daryl's burns, including the patched of dead skin on his arm, Ben had looked cautiously hopeful. He'd said as long as they kept the wound clean, kept it free of infection, Daryl should make it. Two days later, they'd used up the last of the antiseptic, and now Ben hovered by Daryl's bedside, making everyone fear the worse. And when Ben wasn't there, Georgie was, in much the same way she had been for Rick when his hand had been taken by the hunters. Dale still couldn't get the image of her face out of his head when she realised what had happened. She had returned a little after Rick had gone to find her, coming from a different direction then he had left, proudly hauling a deer after her. Dale had just come out of the RV after taking Harry and Matthew to see a slightly less horrific looking Daryl, although even covered in bandages the damage was still apparent. She'd taken in the scene in one glance: the anxious faces, Adele's burnt hands bandages, the blood on T-Dog and Dale. She'd dropped the deer and in a flat dead voice asked:

"Where's Rick?"

"Gone to look for you." Miao replied, watching her quietly. Georgie had closed her eyes in relief, then opened them to ask her second question, a more confident tone to her voice.

"What happened to your hands?" Adele looked down, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Burnt them trying to put out a fire." She looked up. "Georgie..."

Then the penny had dropped.

"Where's Daryl?" Looking at her face, the anxiety, the shock, Dale realised she'd never even considered that Daryl would get hurt. No one answered her. T-Dog moved forward.

"Georgie, the hospital was a trap. There are people there, they..." She cut him off.

"Where is Daryl." T-Dog looked to the RV. Dale moved to one side. Georgie held T-Dogs gaze for a moment, and then moved to the RV as fast as she could without actually running. When she got there, she paused as if to steel herself, and then walked in.

"She shouldn't go in alone." Maggie followed in after her. The camp stood still, waiting for the reaction. Seconds, then minutes past. Dale strained to hear what was being said, but could only hear the hushed tones of Maggie's gentle voice. Finally the door opened, and a pale faced Georgie came out, almost being guided by Maggie.

"What happened?" She looked from T-Dog to Dale. "How did...how did that happen?" T-Dog swallowed.

"We looked around the ground floor and found nothing, so we explored up the stairs. First floor was clear, a couple of locked doors, but no signs of walkers or life. When we got to the second floor, we could see signs of life. Real life. A couple of vending machines had been smashed in and emptied. A waiting room had some blankets there, like someone had slept there. Recently too. But we couldn't find any people. We couldn't see anyone. Then we turned a corner and we see her." Dale listened intently. This was the first he was hearing of the story, and he wanted to know if it linked to what he had seen whilst he was outside. What he, Andrea and Glenn had been going to investigate before T-Dog and Adele had carried out a screaming Daryl (God those screams. He still heard them now)

"Saw who?" Andrea chipped in from beside the RV stairs. She had been sat outside since Ben had ordered her out, breathing in huge gulps of air. The iron in the air from the blood had made her queasy, a fact Dale might have in different circumstances found amusing, considering the amount of walkers she had slayed. T-Dog looked at Adele, who nodded, as if to give him permission to carry on.

"A girl, tied to a chair at the end of the hallway. Bag over her head. Struggling to get free." He had sat down heavily on the very chair Dale was now sat in, placed his head in his hands and breathed heavily. Dale remembered realising that he was close to tears, and that Miao had placed her hand on his back. Adele carried on, her voice heavy.

"We didn't think. We just ran to her. The amount of noise we made, they would have known that we were there as soon as we started to move. I got to her first and pulled the hood off her head. Then we saw that she...it was a walker. Not long dead, she hadn't rotted or anything like that. She was still quite...fresh. But her face..." she swallowed and took a breath. "She'd been carved to pieces. Whilst she was alive. Her mouth...her eyes..." Adele looked down at her hands. "Of course we all started back in shock, she was leaning forward trying to snap at us. We should have run. We should have known something was wrong. But we stood there like morons, trying to figure out what had happened to her. Daryl pulled his crossbow to put her out of her misery, and then there was a movement in the doorway. Someone threw liquid at us. It missed me and T-Dog, but it covered the walker and hit Daryl down his side. We couldn't figure out what had happened, it all happened so fast. And then...T-Dog screamed '_IT__'__S__GAS__DARYL,__MOVE__BACK__IT__'__S__GAS__' _and then he was just on fire. I pulled him back, which is how I got these." She held up her hands to her horrified audience. "T-Dog pulled off his jacket to smother the flames-we couldn't make him drop and roll, there was gas everywhere. I looked up and the walker was still trying to get to us, but now she was like some human pyro. And the SMELL. Oh my god..." She buried her face into Ben's shoulder. T-Dog seemed to have regained his composure and looked up at the group, his eyes shimmering with tears that he was successfully holding back.

"We got Daryl out, but not before another figure, with some sort of pig mask came rushing at us. I didn't think to do anything, I just shot at it. I didn't kill it, just hit it in the leg. Wounded it enough to make it collapse. The rest you know," he concluded looking at Dale.

Dale stood, shaken to his core. This was not like anything they had encountered before. Coupled with what he had found, this was something sick, twisted, sinister. Another result of society collapsing and going to hell.

"There's more." He stepped down, hating to add to the misery and fear, but knowing he had to tell his tale. "Around the back of the hospital, I found-we found-stakes. With...with heads skewered on them." The camp looked at him in horror as he carried on. "Some were still...moving. Some had been attached so violently that they had been killed properly. And some of them were...fresh as you say. With signs that they had been, I don't know. I guess the only word for it is tortured."

"Oh god." Maggie spoke from behind Dale, making him jump. "Are you saying that the people in that place are taking live people and just killing them...for kicks?" The camp looked around at each other in bewilderment. Then Glenn sank to the ground.

"They were watching me. When I left the hospital the first time, I thought I saw light reflected off glass. They were watching me leave through binoculars. They know what direction the camp is. They could find us." He looked up at everyone. "We have to leave. Right now. As soon as Rick gets back."

"Now hold on." Dale moved to the middle of the group. He could see panic setting in. "Can we even do that? What about Daryl? If we move him, we could kill him."

"We can't risk the lives of the whole camp for one person." Miao moved angrily towards Dale. "Daryl wouldn't stick around for any of us."

"Would you say that if it was T-Dog?" Dale knew what he was saying was insane, but he also knew that Miao was wrong. Daryl would meet the challenge head on; relish the idea of a fight. He would have no problems staying. "Now listen. They only have an advantage in that hospital. Out here, we have it. We should at least stay until Daryl can sit up by himself. Ben thinks that would be, what two, three days?" Ben nodded.

"He's a strong man. He'll shake this off no problem."

"He's a cockroach." Harry piped up. Dale let this bizarre comment slide.

"I'm sure Rick will agree. We stay here until Daryl is well enough to travel. Then we get the hell out of here."

And Rick had agreed. And for the past four days, they had spent sleepless nights and anxious days waiting for something to happen. Dale's nerves were shot. Like the others, every noise, every rustle of the branches had him jumping, hand shooting to his gun. But that wasn't all that was on his mind. That morning, he'd seen Georgie leave her post by Daryl's side to go to Maggie and Glenn's tent, where Sophie was. That was normal. Then he'd seen her go into her tent. When she'd emerged, she was carrying her handgun, loading it as she walked. His heart had stopped. He'd asked her what she was doing. She'd looked at him like he was a fool.

"Daryl's not getting better. And now the medicines run out, he's got no chance." She looked down at her gun. "He wouldn't want to come back as..." She let the last sentence hang in the air. "I'm going to do this for him. Because we were...we were good friends and I know that's what he'd want."

"_And__I__'__d__thank__ya__fer__it__too._" Daryl's voice sounded in Dales head. He looked at Georgie, who was still studying the gun. He wondered if Daryl had told Georgie that, or if she just knew him well enough to know. She carried on speaking, her voice less steady.

"When he's dead, when he stops breathing, I'll do it. I don't think I can actually kill him. But I can make sure he stays dead." She looked up and tossed her hair over her shoulders, staring Dale down as if daring him to object. "I just wish I hadn't told the boys he couldn't die back in the hotel. I should have prepared them better for losing him. GOD." She shook her head, as if she was trying to clear something from her mind. "If we had the medicine, he'd beat this no problem."

Dale stretched his legs out in front of him, thinking about the encounter. He'd seen how much she must be hurting, and yet she'd managed to act as if nothing was wrong. He wondered if she would be able to pull the trigger if the time came. He placed a hand on the arm of the chair and closed his eyes. He hadn't told anyone else about the encounter, and now he was waiting for the sound of a gunshot from the RV. He'd been waiting for it all day.

When he opened his eyes again, it was with a start. He could hear shouting and general commotion. For a moment, he thought the camp was under attack, or that Georgie had pulled the trigger. He sat up stiffly, cursing himself for being an old man and moved to the cars where he could see Andrea, T-Dog and Georgie hurriedly gathering guns and ammo. A shamefaced Carl and tearful Harry stood next to them with Rick, who looked stony faced and angry.

"What on earth is going on?" He looked at Andrea for an explanation. She looked at him, but it was Rick that spoke.

"Matthew's gone to the hospital. He heard Georgie and you talking and he went by himself to get the medicine for Daryl. These two knew about it, but he told them to keep it secret."

"_STUPID_boy," Georgie hissed venomously. Harry and Carl shrank back at the anger in her voice. "And you two! You should both know better." Dale suddenly realised what was going on.

"You're going after him? After what happened to Daryl?" Andrea walked to him, obviously about to reason with him. Dale's insides shrank, constricted. He knew he couldn't stop her going, but he wished he could, wished he could throw rope around her and tie her somewhere safe. He wanted to tell her to make someone else go, but who else could? Rick and Adele were still injured, and the rest of the camp couldn't fight like she could. And he was just an old duffer, who fell asleep in the midday sun. Before she could speak, he held up his hand.

"Just go." He grabbed her in a hug, felt her fling her arms around him, felt her wet check press against the stubble on his. "Don't be reckless. Come back safe. Come back to me." She held on for a few moments more, and then made a dash for the car. As she moved away, Georgie approached him. She took his hand and placed Carlo's Crucifix and her handgun into his hand, looking at him meaningfully.

"Please." She held his gaze for a few moments more. "Don't let him suffer. If the time comes, just do it." Dale had stared wordlessly at the gun in his hand, almost protested, and then caught himself. Instead, he nodded at her, vowing silently not to let her down.

T-Dog was the last in the car. He solemnly shook Ricks hand and then leant in to mutter something in his ear. Dale caught the words 'Miao' and 'Sunrise', but nothing more. Then they were gone. Dale felt like part of his soul and heart were leaving with the car. Turning to Rick, who had already sent the boys away to his tent, he started to ask what T-Dog had said, but Rick spoke before the words got out of his mouth.

"We leave at Sunrise, whether they're back or not. If they're not, I'm to take care of Miao." He strode into camp, where the others had gathered, their faces bleak. Dale hung back, looking in the direction the car, and Andrea, had gone. The sun was low in the sky, not setting, but close. He felt the weight of the Crucifix in his hand and then he closed his eyes and prayed to God-although what for he had no idea: it was obvious he had forsaken them all-prayed to God to please bring them back alive and in one piece. And if not all of them, just Andrea would do.

If she didn't come back, he would turn Georgie's gun on himself.


	8. Torture

**Eeek, it's been a long time since I updated.**

**A few things:**

**The next few chapters will be kind of graphic, not anything awful, but more so then my other stuff, so I apologise now.  
>I have obviously referred to certain movies here I DO NOT OWN THESE MOVIES. NOR do I really think all people who watch these types of movies would react in the ways I've described, it's just an idea I'm going with.<br>I will NOT be following the storyline of the second season as I haven't been able to watch any of it as of yet (it's not on channel 5 until _APRIL_-pity me!) So any similarities to the season at this point is pure coincidence. **

**Matthew**

The pain was unbearable. Matthew tried not to scream, but his eye felt like it was on fire. No, more than that, it felt like there was a screw driver being applied through his eye and it was pushing towards his brain. He tried to twist his head away, but strong hands gripped him, and held his head firmly. The liquid that was being poured into his eye continued to trickle down his face, burning his skin. He could almost feel his skin bubbling-it must be some sort of acid. He bit the inside of his mouth to keep himself from yelping, but he couldn't shake the thought that any minute now, he'd feel his eye burst, that the liquid would fizzle through to his brain and that he would die. He wouldn't return to camp with the medical supplies, and Georgie have to would shoot Daryl. Harry would be alone.

"He won't _scream_." A nasally, whiney voice broke through the silence. "He's no fun. This is _boring_Drew." The hands holding Matthews head let go, and whoever was pouring the substance stopped. Matthew hung his head forward, trying to get the liquid to drip off his face. Horrified, he watched as the acid dripped onto his clothes and fizzled on his jeans.

"_It__'__s__like__that__scene__from__Alien_" Matthew thought hazily. The whole thing was like a bad horror movie. Everything had gone wrong almost from the moment he'd stepped foot in the hospital.

He'd planned it all so well, using the knowledge he'd absorbed from the adults stories. He'd always had a good memory, he only had to hear something once and it stuck in his mind. He'd climbed through the reception area and up the corridor, swiftly and silently. Daryl and Georgie had taken them tracking for deer enough times for him to feel confident that he wouldn't alert anyone with a lot of noise. He'd found the pharmacy, but it had been almost empty. Glenn had obviously cleared it on his visit. He'd panicked for a moment, scared that there was no medicine, but then he'd spotted a door, ajar at the other end of the room. Probably there were more bottles and pills back there. He'd crept warily towards the door, not letting his guard down for a moment. Pushing open the door, he'd held his gun in front of him, ready to shoot. The room was full of bottles. Matthew grabbed the bag off his back and moved forward. Then: a sharp pain to the back of his head and the world had gone black. When he'd come to, he'd been tied to a chair, next to a young man, also tied up. When the man had noticed he was awake, he'd spoken almost at once.

"Shit. What the hell are you doing in a place like this?" His voice was hushed, and he kept shooting nervous glances towards the door. Although Matthew could tell he had to be at least Adele's age, maybe older, he had a young face-or maybe he was just afraid. He had freckles all over his face, and his hair, although closely shaved, was a reddish brown colour. In between glances at the door, he studied Matthew with a look of confusion and concern. At first, Matthew could only see the left side of his face. When he turned it, Matthew recoiled in horror. A large piece of the man's cheek seemed to have been eaten away, as if tiny teeth had been nibbling at it. The skin was gone, and Matthew could see the underlying muscle working underneath. Around the patch, an angry circular burn mark branded the skin. If the man noticed him staring, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he started to shuffle his chair towards him.

"You have got to get out of here. How are you with knots?" Matthew stared at him, uncomprehending.

"What do you mean? I have to get medicine for my un...for my friend." The man halted in his shuffling and stared at Matthew.

"Forget your friend. If you don't get out of here now, you're leaving in pieces or as zombie." Matthew flinched. The man angled his ruined cheek towards Matthew. "See this? Think I cut myself shaving? They put a rat on my cheek and a tin over that. Then they heated it up. The rat panicked, and started to try to dig its way out. Through my face." He shook his head, as if to clear the memory. "They only stopped because someone-you apparently-was approaching the hospital."

With a shock, Matthew realised that they-whoever they were-had set a trap for him. And he'd walked right into it. He'd forgotten he wasn't dealing with brain dead walkers. He was dealing with adults, living, breathing, _thinking_people. He stared into the freckled mans eyes.

"Why did they do it? What will they do to me?" The man took up his shuffling again, until his chair was back to back with Matthews. Matthew suddenly felt hands awkwardly wrestling with the ropes around his wrists. He tried to deal with the man's, but the man growled at him.

"Let me deal with you first. Your hands just get in the way."

"Why did they hurt you like that?" Matthew repeated the question, wanting to know what the man could have possibly done. The man was silent, and for a moment, Matthew thought he wasn't going to answer.

"Because they think it's fun. They watched too many torture porn movies, and now they've got a whole host of dead people to play with. And when a living person comes along, that's even better." His voice took on a bitter tone. "Apparently, the dead don't scream enough." He suddenly gave a grunt of frustration. "What the fuck is with these knots!" Matthew was about to suggest that he tried to untie the mans first, when the door opened, and three figures walked in.

The first, obviously the leader, was tall and muscular, and wore a green and gold letterman jacket, the kind handed out to football players in high school. He was followed by two shorter figures, one ever so slightly overweight, the other slim and stooped. The overweight one had a vial of clear liquid in it's hand, the nails of which were bitten and ragged. The slim one was walking with a slight limp, and had a huge skull ring on it's left hand.

But it was their faces Matthew couldn't stop staring at. Or rather, the masks that covered them. He recognised the leaders mask immediately as a crude copy of the puppet from SAW. Pale, with circular swirls on oversized cheeks. The slim, limping one was wearing a cheap looking pigs face, with red stains splattered over it; the chubby one: a gas mask, with large dark plastic circles where the eyes should be. He suddenly got the man's reference to torture porn movies. He'd only managed to watch up to the woman rummaging desperately in her drug dealers stomach for a key to unlock the device on her head before he'd wanted to be sick. He found himself shrinking away from the three figures, more afraid of them then he had been of anything else in his life.

The leader, the one with the puppet mask kicked the man's chair away from Matthew so violently, that it toppled over on its side. He aimed a savage kick at the man's face before he turned back to Matthew and grabbed his face, pulling it upwards. He had thick gloves on, and forced Matthews eye open. Matthew stared up at the mask and was glad he was sat down, his legs seemed to have dissolved.

"Gentlemen." A surprisingly young voice came from behind the mask. "What are your predictions? Will he be a screamer or a squealer?" Sniggers came from the other two figures in the corner.

"Screeeeaamer." The pigs face swam in front of him. Even in his fear, Matthew couldn't help but register how appalling the figures BO was. "Look at him. He's pissing his fucking pants already." He reached into his trench coat and pulled out a video cam. "Man, I'm glad we saved the batteries now. This is going to be _epic_."

"You sick fuckers!" Coughing and spluttering, the man who had tried to help Matthew screamed from the floor. "What is wrong with you, he's just a kid!"

"Shut it you." Pig spoke again. "Else we'll throw you in with your girlfriend. She's not been _herself_ recently. But she'll be _real_ glad to see you." The three laughed as the man breathed in choking sobs.

"C'mon Todd." The boy-it had to be a boy-holding Matthews head spoke to the boy in the gas mask. "Pour it on."

"Oh man this is going to be so _sick_." The pig moved away holding the camera in Matthews's face, as the gas mask man moved closer to him.

As he watched the liquid pour out of the container and felt the puppet mans hands move away from his eye, Matthew had been determined not to scream. Now, his head leaned forward onto his chest, acid dripping onto his leg, he was proud he'd at least managed that. He could hear the three boys arguing over what to do with him now. Apparently, his refusal to scream had really pissed them off. He smiled grimly, and then winced as he felt the skin stretch and burn. He attempted to turn his head slightly, to look at the man who had tried to help him and felt his stomach lurch.

The mans face was a mess of blood. It seemed that Pig's kick had broken his nose, and it gushed onto the dirty floor like a scarlet fountain. The man was having to breathe through his mouth, with some difficulty. Matthew suddenly became afraid that he would suffocate and die. The man looked up at Matthew and his eyes widened in horror. His struggling became even more frenzied and Matthew became afraid he would hurt himself further. He turned away and tried to think through his options, was there any way he could escape? But he already knew it was impossible. He was going to die here, a slow, painful and agonising death. From the snippets of conversation he could hear, they'd already got a good collection of walkers somewhere in the hospital. Were they just going to throw him in amongst them and watch as he was ripped apart?

He couldn't understand them, why they were doing this. Loads of his friends at school watched all sorts of horrid films-SAW, Hostel, Cabin Fever. But he knew none of them could have been this cruel, twisted, this _EVIL_. Or could they? He wondered if the outbreak had changed these three, if they had been good people before. He couldn't get his head around it. #

Before he could try to figure them out anymore, he heard the boy with the gas mask and the whiney voice say, "That's settled then." The three turned and approached him, menace in their every movement. Matthew could hear the man behind him screaming and cursing them. He wanted to turn again and thank him, thank him for at least trying to help him, for being human enough to care about someone else, even when his own life was in the balance.

But before he could do any of that, before the boys reached Matthew, a gun shot rang out through the hospital. Everyone fell silent and still. Another gunshot sounded, then another. Matthew suddenly knew who it was with absolute certainty. They had come to get him. They had come to save him and they would kick these freaks arses.

"What the fuck..." Puppet face turned towards the open door. Matthew smiled.

"My friends are going to be so pissed with you. You'd better run, whilst you can still move all your limbs." It was an empty threat, he knew that no one in the group was as sadistic as these boys, but it felt good to say the words, to see the uncertainty in their movements, and to watch them run out of the room.

"Do you know, who that is?" The man spoke through gasping, gulping breaths.

"My friends from the camp." Matthew turned his head again. "If we just hold on for a bit, they'll take us somewhere safe. Your girlfriend too. You'll see." He turned his head to look at the open door, to wait for the grownups to appear around the corner. "They'll have to deal with the creeps first, but they'll be here soon. Just watch. Any minute now. You'll see. You'll see."

**AGAIN: I do not think people who are into Saw hostel etc are all capable of torture and mutilation and such, (hopefully that's come across in the chapter anyway) it's just an idea I had and have run with. Please don't be offended. **


	9. Compassion

**T-Dog**

T-Dog lowered Daryl's crossbow. He still felt like he shouldn't be using it, but Georgie had pointed out that they needed to use stealth weapons if they were to have a chance to rescue Matthew from whoever was hiding out at the hospital. Not that it mattered now.

They'd driven up to the hospital entrance without attracting any attention. T-Dog had insisted on keeping the headlights down low, to minimise any chance of being spotted as they came up. The journey had been tense and silent; both Andrea and Georgie seemed lost in their own thoughts. Whilst Andrea seemed reflective and tense, Georgie radiated fury, barely concealed under a seemingly neutral facade. T-Dog wondered what she was thinking. He was fairly certain that Andrea was thinking about Dale, about whether she would see him again, the same way that he was thinking about Miao. He would have guessed that Georgie was thinking about Sophie: about who would look after her if she didn't come back. But from the look on her face, it had been clear her mind was already thinking of how she wanted to deal with the mysterious characters at the hospital. For some reason, it'd made him feel very uneasy.

Like before, they'd driven almost up to the gate of the hospital, only this time they hadn't bothered to hide the car, nor had they been as cautious to approach the hospital. Picking their way through the reception area, T-Dog had felt his hands start to shake, just like they had done last time. His jaw was clenched, his stomach ached as if someone had pummelled him and he couldn't stop sweating. He felt three, four, five _hundred_ times worse than he had done when they had first come to the place. Then, he'd had ignorance on his side. Now he knew what was inside the place, and that it wasn't ignorant walkers, fuelled by hunger and nothing else. It was people, people who had somehow created death traps within the old building, for an unknown purpose, who had cunning on their side, as well as knowledge of the layout of the hospital. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat and instead focused on the task at hand. They slowly made their way along the ground and first floor, checking every room, softly calling for Matthew. There was no sign of either him, or the attackers from last time.

The light was fading fast now, and shadows were reaching across the hallway, making everything seem even more sinister and foreboding, something T-Dog hadn't realised was possible. When they got to the second floor, where Daryl had been attacked, he could see scorch marks still clung to the walls, and even though it had been four days ago, the smell of scorched flesh still clung to the corridor like an unwelcome guest. Georgie and Andrea's faces had blanched briefly at this, unprepared for it as they were. Again, on this floor, no sign of life. T-Dog wasn't fooled. He'd been unprepared once before, he wasn't making that mistake again.

"I guess we're going up another floor then?" Andrea murmured.

"Looks that way." T-Dog gritted his teeth. "Be alert. Try not to touch anything. We don't know what they've set up." Wild images raced through his mind: trip wires, swinging axes, more flame throwers. He had no idea how the inhabitants of the hospital would have set any of this up, but his mind wouldn't listen to logic anymore. Every horror movie he had seen was racing through his head, reminding him of more and more scenarios they could encounter, some more likely than others.

"Can you hear that?" Georgie's urgent whisper broke through the silence. T-Dog strained his ears. He frowned, confused.

"What is that?" A scrabbling noise, faint but distinct, was echoing down the hall. Andrea put her finger to her lips, and motioned them onwards. As they moved down the hall, the scratching, scrabbling noise became louder, as did the sound of harsh, rasping groans. Andrea froze in front of them and turned to face him.

"_Walkers_" she mouthed. Georgie raised her cross bow as Andrea fell behind her and T-Dog, rifle ready. T-Dog raised Daryl's bow.

"Only shoot if there too many," Georgie reminded Andrea out of the corner of her mouth. "We want to make this an ambush." Andrea nodded solemnly. All three of them moved stealthily, weapons at the ready. T-Dog was pretty sure he could hear his blood pounding in his ears, his heart was beating so fast. The noises got louder as they moved further down the hall, until...

"Stop!" T-Dog spoke a little too loudly and a thumping and banging echoed down the hall. Georgie and Adele looked at him confused. "They're in there." T-Dog pointed to the closed elevator door. He could clearly now hear the things inside the shaft. He couldn't tell if they were on their level or a little below, but one thing was for sure; they could hear them out here, and they were hungry. For a moment, relief flickered across Georgie's face, then she steeled herself again.

"Stay sharp guys." Andrea shouldered her rifle again. She didn't need to finish the sentence. _There__could__still__be__others_. Taking a final glance at the doors, T-Dog raised the crossbow and moved on down the hall.

They had barely taken five steps, when they heard another moaning noise, this time from one of the rooms. Georgie whipped around pointing her arrow at the door of the room, and started to move forward, but Andrea stopped her. A look of intense concentration was on her face, and she seemed to be listening keenly. There was silence for a moment, and then the thing inside the room made a coughing spluttering sound, then back to moaning. Georgie lowered her bow and looked inquisitively at Andrea. The noises didn't sound right for a walker. They sounded too...human. T-Dog could see Andrea thought the same. She moved towards the room, and cautiously opened the door, Georgie covering her back. She froze, and gave a small cry of revulsion and shock that she quickly smothered. Georgie looked over her shoulder and reeled back. She looked like she was going to be sick. She motioned T-Dog forward.

"You go in with her. I'll stay...I can't..." She stared at the floor, wan faced. T-Dog moved past her, apprehensive about what he would find.

It was the smell that hit him first. Blood, burnt flesh, faeces, and other things he couldn't describe. He almost followed Georgie out of the room, but by breathing in through his mouth, he was able to lessen the impact that the stench had on him. Once he was over the smell, he took in the small room. It might have once been a pleasant ward for recovery, but now it looked like a scene from a nightmare. Blood splatter covered the walls, some of it old, some still relatively fresh and glistening. Occasionally, some sort of flesh or matter was plastered to the wall as well, splayed out as if it had hit it at some speed. Some of the wall appeared to be moving, and on further investigation, to T-Dogs revulsion, he could see maggots and larvae feeding on the flesh that was stuck there. The window had been boarded up and only small slithered of moonlight illuminated the floor, which was also swimming in blood and flesh, and judging by the smell, human waste. As he moved his head around the small room, to his horror, T-Dog could also see a human hand lying in the corner next to the door. But worse than this, dug deep into the door, were scratch marks. When T-Dog reached his hands out to examine them, he couldn't help but notice no matter how hard he tried, that they fitted the shape of his fingers. He moved away, shuddering. Wherever he looked, he noticed more details to add to the dreadfulness of the situation: a tray full of surgical and non-surgical instruments; beakers and syringes full of ominous liquid; another dismembered body part. He'd only ever seen one place that even came close to this hellish nightmare. As soon as he thought of it, he wished he hadn't. Remembering the Governors daughter chained to the wall, feeding on the remains of contenders of the ring, including his friend was something he had tried to banish to his dreams. He didn't need to think of it here and now, not when he was already stretched to his last nerve, not when he felt like his sanity was hanging by a thread.

He squinted in the darkness, trying to find Andrea-she seemed to have disappeared into the walls. He shook that thought off immediately. It was bad enough that the dead were walking without him creating images of processed rooms. Then he spotted her. She was over a large bundle on the far side of the room. As he watched, the bundle stirred.

He froze. It was happening again, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the images of the Governors daughter flooding his brain. He closed his eyes and opened them again, but the thing was still there with Andrea. He wracked his brains for something to try to make himself feel braver, anything at all. All that sprang to mind was a song his Grandfather use to sing to his Grandmother when he'd had a few glasses of rum. And even then, he could only remember the first verse. He started to hum it to himself under his breath anyway, trying to push back the scream that was threatening to escape him.

_Black,__black,__black__  
>is<em>_the__colour__of__my__true__love's__hair__  
>Her<em>_lips__are__like__a__rose__so__fair  
>And<em>_the__prettiest__face__and__the__neatest__hands.  
>I<em>_love__the__grass__whereon__she__stands  
>She<em>_with__the__wondrous__hair_.

He raised the crossbow and moved forward to Andrea, humming the song over and over forcibly. He didn't trust himself to ask her what she was doing, for fear he would scream and never stop. The closer he got to the bundle and Andrea, the clearer he could see them.

The bundle was a body, a young woman judging by the hair. Alive, but only just. Her clothes and face were soaked in blood. Her face was scarred in a similar way to Daryl's, and was red raw with burns. Her legs were bent in an impossible way, that suggested they were broken, and the fingers on the hand he could see were all bent and twisted, some missing fingernails. Despite this, she was holding Andreas hand, clinging to it as if for comfort. Her mouth was moving urgently, whispering something to Andrea, whose head was close to hers. T-Dog couldn't see, but he thought Andrea might be crying. As he watched, the woman's face turned to look at him. In spite of himself, he winced. Her eye had been gorged out of the socket, leaving a blank empty hole in her face. Part of her cheek seemed to have been carved away. Her neck had angry red welts around it. He felt any fear leave him, to be replaced by anger.

"_Who__did__this__to__you?_" he wanted to ask her. "_Do__they__have__our__kid?_ _We__'__ll__take__care__of__them__for__you._" But he couldn't form the words. He stopped a little way from her and Andrea, watching silently. Somewhere from above them, something fell over and crashed. Andrea drew her hand gun and placed it next to the woman's right temple. A look of peace fell over her face, and she closed her eyes. She opened her mouth and started to sing softly the rest of T-Dogs song.

_Black, black, black  
>is the colour of my true love's hair<br>Alone, my life would be so bare.  
>I would sigh, I would weep,<br>I would –_

Andrea pulled the trigger and the shot echoed through the room and the whole hospital. For a moment, she was silent. Then she started to speak.

"She asked me to. They tortured her until she was near dead. She wanted to be put out of her misery. T-Dog, what if they've already..."

Two more shots rang through the room, coming from the outdoor corridor. Andrea and T-Dog leapt to their feet and ran to Georgie.

The elevator doors were open, and two walkers lay, spilt out of it. Georgie was sat on the floor, her handgun in her hand, her crossbow apparently forgotten. She looked up at T-Dog and Andrea as they clattered into the hallway.

"Fucking zombies opened it with their hands. I couldn't reload the bow fast enough for both of them." She looked up at the ceiling. Voices were shouting to each other, footsteps clattering across the floor. "So much for stealth." She sprung to her feet, and glanced into the room next to the one T-Dog and Andrea had just been in. Whatever was in there seemed to satisfy her, and she turned back to the pair of them.

"I've got a plan."


	10. Crossingtheline

**Andrea**

Breathing deeply in the small confined room wasn't a wise move given the stench, but as long as she breathed in through her mouth, Andrea was fine. Besides, she needed to take the deep breaths to steady her nerves. She felt incredibly vulnerable with her back to the door, crouched over the body of the young woman she had just killed. But then, that was the point. She'd given her shot gun to Georgie, and had concealed her handgun partially under the body of the woman. She stole a glance behind her. Nothing yet. T-Dog and Georgie were hiding in the rooms next door, ready to pounce on whoever came through the door. She was the bait. A helpless, unarmed woman.

Footsteps slowly came down the hallway. Andrea held her breath. Either these people were incredibly stupid, or there were so many of them that they didn't feel the need to use stealth. She resisted the urge to turn around to see who was in the doorway, resisted the urge to grab her gun. She kept her head bowed, and waited.

The footsteps entered the room. It sounded like it was only one person, something she wasn't sure if she should be pleased or wary about. She breathed in again, shakily this time.

"_Keep__calm__Andrea_," she thought to herself. "_You__'__ll__be__fine.__T-Dog__and__Georgie__have__your__back._" She closed her eyes and braced herself for whatever was about to happen.

Time seemed to slow. She could hear the footsteps coming to her, but they seemed to take an age to reach her. She could hear someone breathing. A heavy snuffling, like someone with a bad cold or case of asthma. She resisted the urge to look around, to see who this person was. She resisted the urge to grab her gun and shoot wildly behind her. No, she wasn't fighting the urge. She was fighting the instinct, an instinct to survive. Sitting here and waiting to be attacked: that was against everything she had learnt over the last year or so.

So was screaming like a total girl when she was grabbed. But that's what she did. She felt a sharp jerk on her hair and was suddenly dragged backwards roughly. Screaming and wiggling, she was hauled across the filthy floor, her fake panic intensifying as she failed to grab her handgun. She couldn't twist her neck to see the face of her attacker, she could only hear his wheezing. She scratched at his hand, trying to free herself from his grip. The person swore, and jerked their hand away. She scrambled across the floor and reached for her handgun. Throwing herself on her back, she pointed the gun at the persons head, ready to blow them away. As they turned around, she gave an involuntary gasp.

It wasn't so much that the person was wearing a Gas Mask that gave them an eerie, nightmarish quality, nor that their clothes were covered in splatters of blood. It was the fact that even without being able to see the persons face, she could tell just how young they were. She didn't know how she knew, but something ticked her off. She was so busy contemplating how someone so young could be so cruel, that she didn't register them coming towards her with some sort of bat in their hand at first.

A shot blasted through the air, and the figure slumped to their knees. Half their head seemed to have disappeared, leaving a gaping hole, exposing brain and skull. She could see long, greasy, dark lanky hair poking through the remains of the gas mask. She shuddered and got to her feet. Outside, she could hear screams and someone clambering up the stairs. The screams sounded young again, not Georgie and T-Dog, which relieved her.

"GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKS!" T-Dog was screaming outside the room, at some invisible beings. Andrea made a dash for the door, and barged through it in time to see T-Dog disappear up the stairs. Georgie seemed to have just finished reloading her shot gun. She picked up Andreas, and threw it at her.

"They sent gas boy down, whilst the other two watched from the stairs. Weird fucking..._FREAKS_, with these masks on...When they saw me take a chunk out of their friend, they ran back upstairs. Think they pissed themselves. They sound young. I don't think they're prepared for people who can fight back." She paused and looked into the room and then at Andrea. After a second she lowered her eyes. "I never thought I'd have to shoot a...a teenager."

Andrea started.

"You think they're teenagers?" She didn't know why she was surprised. Two seconds ago, she'd been shocked that the person who attacked her looked so young. All Georgie was doing was confirming what she'd already figured out for herself. She took a deep breath and shouldered her shotgun.

"We need to follow T-Dog. We shouldn't leave him alone and outnumbered."

"Against two teenagers?" Georgie sounded more uncertain than Andrea had ever heard her. The thought did not make her feel confident.

"We don't know that it's just teenagers up there. There could be other people who sent them down to check it out." Georgie moved towards the staircase and Andrea followed. She no longer bothered to creep; the intruders knew that they were there now, so why bother? She could hear shouting and yelping from the above floor, as well as the occasional thump.

As they moved onto the corridor, Andrea turned her head slightly to try to figure out where T-Dog had run to. Georgie pulled on her arm and pointed to the left.

"Down there!" The two women sprinted down the hall, towards the desperate screams. Andrea reached the door first and barged in, gun raised, fully expecting the worse.

At first, her worst fears were confirmed. Two bodies were tied to chairs, both seemingly lifeless, one horrifyingly familiar.

"Matthew!" Georgie may have intended to scream, but her voice came out strangled and muffled. She almost dropped her shotgun to rush to him, but a movement from down by her feet made both her and Andrea jump.

A crumpled form was dragging itself towards them and had grabbed onto Andreas leg. It seemed to have some sort of mask on, that might have been an animal at one point, but was now indistinguishable, it was so broken up and torn. The form made a heavy, wheezing, ragged breathing noise, and seemed to look up imploringly at them both. Andrea made a noise of revulsion and shook it off. Georgie skittered around it and dashed to Matthew as Andrea pointed her gun at the person. It reached it's hand to her and breathed out one sentence.

"Stop him!" For a moment, Andrea wasn't sure who it meant, then she looked up and saw T-Dog for the first time.

He'd abandoned his gun, and was sat straddled on the other figures chest. His face and neck were covered in blood splatter, and he had his hands wrapped around another persons neck. His face looked possessed, like another person had taken him over entirely. It was his eyes that scared her the most. Gone was the gentle concern, the warmth, the kindness. Instead there was an ice cold fury. Andrea felt a panic in her stomach. This wasn't what they had come for. They were only suppose to kill if they needed to protect themselves. The child downstairs, that was an accident, but now they'd found Matthew, it was obvious from the lack of absolutely anyone coming to investigate the noise apart from these boys that they were alone and probably not that dangerous anymore.

"T-Dog!" She moved away from the body at her feet, and tried to pull him off the body. "T-Dog, stop it, get off him." She attempted to wrap her arms around his upper body and heave him off the choking bloody mess under him, but he roughly pushed her off, sending her flying across the room. "T-DOG! STOP IT!"

"Kill him." Georgie's voice broke through Andreas confusion. Andrea turned to stare at her. She was examining Matthew, her face carefully devoid of all emotion. At first Andrea was too focused on Georgie to see him properly. Then her stomach turned.

One side of Matthews face was burnt and scarred, still red raw and weeping. It looked like it had melted, twisted and distorting his features into a grotesque mask, part of his nose burnt away, the corner of his mouth twisted downwards. She choked back a sob as she saw his eye, burnt, milky white, blind. Georgie spoke again, her voice shaking slightly as she rubbed Matthews face and set to work on the ropes tying him up.

"Kill them both." Andrea stared at the body that had been trying to escape the room. She looked at the body being choked by T-Dog.

"_You__did__this__to__him.__You__blinded__and__burnt__a__thirteen__year__old.__Why?_" For one long minute, she felt herself battled with her conscious, with the part of herself that still held onto the old values, the idea that killing a teenager was wrong. And then a frightening rage started to creep over her, as the same thoughts circled in her head over and over.

"_You__blinded__a__thirteen__year__old__boy._

_You tortured that woman downstairs for fun._

_You set Daryl on fire._

_All those head outside._

_You're dangerous._

_You__need__to__be__exterminated._"

Slowly, she got to her feet, carrying her shotgun in her hand and walked towards the thing in the doorway. It heard her coming and turned onto its back. It held its hand out to her and started to whimper. Andrea noticed with a grim satisfaction a dark patch spread across its crotch area. She pointed the gun at its head.

"Please!" It sobbed, a pathetic, squeaking voice. "Please, I'm fifteen, you can't do this. I'm a _minor_."

Andrea stared down at it, amazed that it would even have the gall to even try to pull that shit on her. She glared at it for a few seconds then aimed her gun carefully.

Like the bible said: An eye for an eye.


	11. Anaesthetic

**I found this really difficult to write! I experimented with loads of POV and finally settled on Daryl, but I'm still not sure if it's right. Please review and let me know-positives and negatives!**

**Daryl**

Pain.

That was the first thing Daryl registered when he opened his eyes. His whole god dam body ached and burned. He tried to move his head to figure out where it was coming from, but it felt like his head was full of cotton wool and he was unable to send a message to his neck to turn to investigate why the left side of his body felt like it only half existed. He closed his eyes again. What the hell had happened? He couldn't remember anything after he ran to that woman. No, she'd been a walker. He winced suddenly.

Fire.

He remembered the sensation of his skin cooking, of an intense pain racing through his system. He groaned as his head cleared, the memory sharpened and the pain intensified. He swallowed. His throat was dry-had he been out for long? He needed a drink. But his body still refused to obey his brain. He coughed, and felt a cool hand on his forehead and a glass against his mouth. He gulped gratefully and opened his eyes.

Georgie was sat next to his bed. He hadn't seen her the first time he'd opened his eyes. Where had she come from? He stared at her for a moment. She had a bruise on the side of her face, a small one, recent. She must have gotten it hunting or something. At least she wouldn't have had chance to do anything stupid, like go to the hospital. He'd never know any woman with a knack for doing the stupidest thing she could think of. She pulled the now empty glass away from him and looked at him calmly for a moment.

"So. You're awake." She a piece of hair away from her eyes. Daryl noticed with some confusion that her eyes were red. "You know I nearly shot you yesterday. I thought you'd become a walker."

Yesterday? Had the woman lost her mind? Daryl opened his mouth to correct her but all that came out of his mouth was a strangled choking noise. Georgie grinned.

"Yeah, you made that noise. Not surprising. You've been out of it longer than Rick was. Nearly nine days. We thought you were going to die." Daryl started. Nine days? How had he been out cold for nine whole days? How? He'd only been burnt a little? Hadn't he? He tried to ask a question, but his throat was another part of his body refusing to do what his brain wanted. Instead he tried to understand what Georgie was telling him. That Matthew had gone to the hospital, that she, T-Dog and Andrea had gone after him, that Matthew had been hurt. Blinded almost. The last part made Daryl's stomach clench. He suddenly got why Georgie's eye were red. She'd been crying about Matthew. She sighed and stood up.

"I need sleep. Like real sleep. The RV floor is not comfortable." Daryl blinked. Had she slept in the RV with him? She hesitated for a moment, and then took his left hand and squeezed it. At least, he thought she did. He still couldn't feel anything properly.

"I'm really glad you're ok Daryl. And...and I'm really sorry that I was such a cow. You know..." She trailed off. "Anyway, I'll get Ben to come, and T-Dog so you're not alone." She held onto his hand a moment longer and then quickly moved out of the RV, leaving Daryl alone with his thoughts.

It was harder to keep track of what he was thinking without someone to focus on, so for a while, he focused on trying to regain control of his body. For a moment, he worried he might have become a cripple, remembering how he hadn't been able to properly feel Georgie's hands. Then, he remembered something she'd said about Ben drugging him up to the eyeballs. That reassured him slightly, and explained why his head felt like he'd been drinking his way through three barrels of whiskey. Still, he'd feel better when he was able to move more than his eyelids. He focused on his right hand at first, which seemed to be more willing to co-operate than his left. Slowly, but surely, he coaxed his fingers into wiggling and eventually his hand closed into a fist.

So he wasn't a cripple. Not with his right hand anyway. He focused his attention on turning his neck to the left, where Georgie had been sat. Straight away, he saw why he hadn't felt Georgie's hand clearly. His whole left side of his body was wrapped in bandages. He wondered what his body looked like underneath them. He wondered if he'd still be able to fight like he had before. He groaned again and looked beyond his body. On the floor of the RV was a pile of blankets and a crumpled up pillow. He blinked. So she had slept in the RV with him. He didn't get why.

He'd been a complete jackass to her recently. Even he knew that. He didn't really know why. He'd been mad at her when she'd stayed with Rick for a week, even though Rick had been sick, and Georgie was simply looking after him. The fact that she'd slept in the RV with him proved that-why else would she be in here with him? He'd been madder when she'd continued to hang out with Rick and Carl after he'd recovered. No, not mad. Jealous.

He knew he liked her more than the other women in the group, but he'd always assumed that was because she was tougher, could fight, and generally seemed more together than the others-bar maybe Adele. Even when Carol had been killed and she'd shown that actually (to his horror) she could cry like a woman, she'd still pulled it together and done what had to be done. He didn't really get what had changed, apart from she'd started to wear his shirt constantly since their dealings with the scum that had tried to kill T-Dog and Rick and he liked it.

She'd hung on to him like a drowning person that night. When they'd come back to the hotel, both tired, and been greeted by Matthew and Harry, she had pretty much collapsed on his bed, looking as exhausted as he felt. He'd gone to sleep in the other room, but she'd stopped him.

"It's a double bed Daryl. Don't worry, I don't snore." He'd gotten onto the bed next to her, and noticed even through she was totally wiped out, she was still shaking. He'd gone to place a hand on her shoulder and realised that he was too. Before his hand touched her, she'd turned and buried her face in his shoulder, holding onto his vest, still shaking. They'd lain like that til he'd fallen asleep, and when he woke up, she had been in Ricks room. Daryl hadn't been able to figure out why he was so jealous-it wasn't like they'd had sex or even kissed. He'd done far worse with girls at home and not batted an eyelid when they went off with another man, like the tramps they were. And yet he'd gotten so mad about Georgie and Rick, he'd been willing to use any excuse to knock Rick's teeth out.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by the door opening and T-Dog entering, closely followed by Ben. T-Dog walked over to the bed and almost went to hug him, but stopped himself.

"Man..." He seemed lost for words. "You have no idea...I have NEVER been so happy to see your face." Daryl tried to return the sentiments, but all he could manage was a cough, and the word:

"Dog" T-Dog grinned.

"Man, you _ARE_ a cockroach. Adele was right. You can survive anything." He sat beside the bed, watching whilst Ben started to cut away the bandages and clean his burns. Now Daryl had a good look at the extent of his wounds. The smell was pretty bad, which he expected, and the skin was hardened and cracked. He could see what looked like a hole in his arm, and in some places, he could see a yellowy fluid. He was distracted from this by T-Dog, who started to talk to him about what had happened since he and the others had returned from the hospital. Daryl tried to listen, but it was hard to concentrate on T-Dogs voice when he could feel (very clearly) Ben pulling and prodding at his arm. One thing did stick out in his mind.

"Miao's pregnant." Daryl managed to grunt at this, although he couldn't tell if his congratulations had been understood. T-Dog was beaming proudly.

"I mean, it's still early, but Glenn and Craig got her a test and she's defiantly...you know. So, I'm trying to keep her calm and not doing too much. I think she's just scared of the giving birth part, but Rick and Adele are already making plans to move to somewhere safe." Daryl managed to nod, showing that this part of the conversation at least he was following. "Craig's helping too, he knows this area pretty well..."

"Craig?" Daryl managed to cough out the unfamiliar name.

"He was at the hospital. Being tortured with Matthew..." T-Dog trailed off. "You do know about Matthew don't you?" Daryl nodded, feeling his stomach clench. He'd failed to keep Matthew safe. He didn't know how he'd react when he saw him, but he wished T-Dog had kept just one of those fucks alive for him to deal with. T-Dog paused, apparently gauging his reaction and then carried on speaking, but Daryl was finding it hard to follow again, and felt himself start to drift off into sleep. He was vaguely aware of Ben and T-Dog leaving the room, and then he slipped into oblivion.


	12. Debate

**Craig**

It had been five days since Craig had been rescued from the hospital. At first, when they'd untied him, he had been just as afraid of them as he had the three sickos who had tried to kill him by pulling him apart. It hadn't taken him long to realise that none of them meant him any harm.

After he had strangled the boy in the jigsaw mask, the man-T-Dog they called him- had seemed to come to his senses. He'd sat for a while, simply staring at his hands, whilst the two women fussed over him and Matthew. Despite the fact that all three had ruthlessly killed the masked boys, and presumably the zombies that lurked downstairs, the women were surprisingly gentle, cleaning both his and Matthews wounds as best they could. Once they were sorted, and T-Dog had collected his senses, one of the women had looked outside.

"We should get back now, before it gets too close to sunrise." She looked back at Matthew and smiled. "They said they were leaving at sunrise, so we need to make sure we're there." The other woman had nodded and looked at Craig.

"You should come with us. For a while. We have a doctor, he could treat that wound-" she pointed to the crater on Craigs face, "-make sure it doesn't get infected." She smiled gently. "I understand if you don't trust us, or don't want to, but you can't stay here alone."

Craig hadn't bothered to think about it. He'd seen the three of them in action, and was pretty sure he'd be better off with these people. So, he'd helped them collect up as much as the rest of the medicine they could find, including what was in Matthews bag. And when the group decided to burn down the hospital, and any remaining walkers that were in it, he'd doused the zombie heads around the back in as much gasoline as he could find. As they'd driven away, the flames had reached higher and higher into the sky. Craig remembered thinking that any remaining zombies in the city would see it and move towards it. This made him feel a little better, knowing they'd be more memorised by the flames then by him as a potential food source.

The car journey back to the camp that the women spoke about was passed in silence. Matthew was quiet and subdued, no doubt still in pain from the acid that had been poured into his eye. T-Dog seemed deep in thought and Craig didn't want to risk aggravating him. The blonde, older lady drove whilst the other woman sat in the passenger's seat, seemingly half asleep. So Craig sat back , waiting to arrive at the camp.

Even though it was pitch black when they arrived, two men were still sat around a fire. Craig squinted to make out their faces, but all he could really tell was that one was old, with a white beard, and the other was very young with a mess of brown hair. Before he could figure out anymore, the younger woman pulled him aside, ushering him and Matthew into a RV, followed by the younger man.

Inside the RV, it smelt of antiseptic. Craig went to sit down, then jumped in shock as he saw a body lying on the sofa. He couldn't make out any detail, and decided he'd rather not know. The woman started to rummage through a cupboard and pulled out a lantern. Turning it on, she turned to the younger man, shining the light on Craig and Matthew.

"Jesus!" The man gasped in horror. "Georgie, what happened...?"

"Use your imagination." The woman spoke grimly. "Can you save..." She trailed off as the man shook his head slowly, looking in Matthews eye.

"I can't restore the sight. I don't even know if I can save what he's got left. I can clean it, but without medical supplies..."

"What do you need." Craig remembered the backpack, still in the car. He rushed outside to get it, throwing it back into the RV before the man, who was apparently a doctor, could respond. He started to rummage through the bag and then stopped. He looked up at Georgie.

"Daryl...he's still alive." Georgie started slightly. She looked towards the bundle on the couch. "This bottle you've brought back," he waved it in the air, "this could save him. But there are no needles. You need to help me..." He motioned towards the lump on the sofa. Georgie didn't even blink.

"Tell me what you want me to do."

That had been five days ago. And now apparently, the man who had been lying on the sofa in the RV was awake. Craig looked up at the sky and felt the warmth on his face. They were still in the same area, just a little further away from the city. Apparently, the group had wanted to leave the area outright, but when Georgie and the rest had explained that the hospital was no longer a threat, the camp had decided to stay for a little longer. Craig looked towards the RV. Georgie had been in there pretty much everyday since they'd come back, usually with the little blonde girl who followed her around relentlessly. Every now then, she came out to speak to T-Dog or Adele, an Australian blonde, who seemed to be in a relationship with the doctor.

Despite the generally subdued mood of the camp, he'd managed to make friends with the Asian bloke and his girlfriend: Glenn and Maggie. It was them who had pointed out the relationships of the camp to him, them who had filled him in on the background of the group and them who had allowed him to bunk in their tent. He'd been so grateful for their kindness, that when Glenn had been taken aside by Miao, T-Dog's partner, and asked to go into the city to find a chemists, he'd accompanied him despite Glenn's protests. This act of apparent bravery and selflessness on his behalf endeared him to the rest of the group, and he found himself very quickly making friends with the rest of the camp. Rick, the apparent leader asked his advice on what he knew about the surrounding area; T-Dog confessed to him his fear that he had been able to kill so easily and what this meant about his ability to be a parent, even Andrea, who had been suspicious of him in the hospital, enough to stick a gun at his head, sought him out to speak to about what should be done with Matthew and his little brother whilst Daryl, the man in the RV, recovered. In fact, the only person he hadn't spoken to was Georgie.

Just as he reflected on this point, Georgie herself sat herself down next to him. _Speak__of__the__devil_ he thought to himself. She leant back and looked at the sky. She seemed far more relaxed than any of the times he had seen her briefly outside of the RV over the last few days, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She sat there for a few minutes, seemingly content to say nothing, then at last she turned to face Craig.

"So. What part of Ireland are you from?" Craig was impressed. His accent was faint now, having spent so long living in America, but apparently Georgie was more observant then he'd given her credit for.

"Drogheda. It's north of Dublin. I lived there til I was about 13 with me ma, then she got herself married and I ended up in New Jersey." Georgie nodded, but didn't respond. Craig waited a moment, but then unable to take the silence, as usual, started to talk rubbish.

"I kinda liked it, ya, know, bein' the only Irish guy in school. All the girls love an accent you know. I mean, not that me looks didn't help, but the accent defiantly...although to be fair, I reckon now I'm one of the top ten best looking people alive in the world. And I can say that without feeling like I'm ya know, big headed. I mean, 99.99% of the men in the world are rotting right now and I'm still pretty hot even with the scar on me face-I mean women dig scars right? Show me someone with a more impressive scar-alright apart from your man Matthew over there-but I mean he's a bit young fer the ladies you know what I mean. So yeah, accent, scar, not decaying, I think I'm due to get laid pretty soon." He stopped for breath, and took in Georgie's face. She was looking at him with a puzzled look on her face. He closed his eyes and silently groaned.

_Craig,__you__'__re__a__fucking__twat_. He couldn't believe he'd said all of that. Women dig scars, what on earth...? Why, why couldn't he just not talk? He'd spent his whole life riding off the fact he was Irish and therefore most people were distracted by the accent, but things were different now. People weren't looking for charm and distraction, and he just looked like an idiot.

"Are you hitting on me?" The puzzled look was replaced by one of mild amusement. "Because that was rubbish if you were. What happened to the gift of the _Blarney__Stone_, hey?" Craig laughed self consciously.

"Total feckin' myth. Usually people just assume I have poetry in me soul and let me talk crap. The accent lets me get away with a lot."

"Playing on a stereotype?" Georgie chuckled and tutted. "I suppose you drink Guinness and quote Yeats?" Craig smiled. Here was a chance to redeem himself.

"Not a great fan of Yeats meself. Your man Shakespeare, he knew what it was at." Georgie's eyes lit up.

"You like Shakespeare?" She turned to face him, her face showing genuine interest. "What's your favourite play?" Craig thought carefully. When he'd taught Shakespeare to his high school, he'd always stuck to Romeo and Juliet, a classic. But it seemed a clique to admit this. What play could he come up with to impress Georgie, and stop her thinking of him as an idiot.

"Othello." He paused, for effect, and then recited the famous lines.

"_I__pray__you,__in__your__letters,  
>When<em>_you__shall__these__unlucky__deeds__relate,  
>Speak<em>_of__me__as__I__am;__nothing__extenuate,  
>Nor<em>_set__down__aught__in__malice.__Then__must__you__speak  
>Of<em>_one__that__lov'd__not__wisely__but__too__well;  
>Of<em>_one__not__easily__jealous,__but__being__wrought,  
>Perplex'd<em>_in__the__extreme.__"_

He sighed. "Poor bloke, driven to madness by one of the best villains ever created-Iago. Well, bar Lady Macbeth of course." He had been going to dazzle and impress with his analysis of Othello as a tragic figure, but he saw Georgie shaking her head sadly.

"Othello's a fool man. I know everyone feels for him because he's manipulated by Iago, but SERIOUSLY, have a bit more faith in the woman you love. And as for Lady Macbeth, she's _not_ the villain in Macbeth. She's as much a victim of manipulation as Macbeth, plus the misogynistic society of the time that condemned un feminine women." Craig stared at her. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a conversation that came even close to be as stimulating at this promised to be. He rubbed his scarred check with his hand and raised an eyebrow.

"Explain yourself. And, for gods sake, don't go on about how the loss of her baby drove her insane. That's no excuse." Georgie grinned.

"Please. I'm far more original." She paused for a moment, as if to collect her thoughts.

"Hey Georgie!" She turned her head towards the camp again. Ben was waving at her, beckoning her to come over. "Daryl's threatening to attempt to go walk about in the woods hunting, we could do with your docile tones." Georgie laughed and turned to Craig.

"He means I'm the only one cold enough to give the prick a slap whilst he's down." Despite her referral to the man as 'prick', the warmth in her voice betrayed how fond she was of him. She got to her feet. "I'll put you straight about your damn Othello later. Oh and, for the record: Your scar is baby play." She looked around, and pulled the back of her shirt up. Craig cringed inwardly, for the second time in the five minutes he'd been around her. A truly impressive array of vicious scars were scattered across Georgie's back, all deep and angry looking.

"Well, those are...yeap, you could defiantly pull a few chicks with those." He stopped, as he reflected on what he had just said. _Oh__Jesus,__let__me__just__get__bitten__here__and__now._ Luckily Georgie seemed to take his stupidity as a joke and laughed again.

"Yeap, I'm getting laid day and night." She pulled her shirt down and looked at him appraisingly. "You'd best recap on all your arguments for your lame ass hero, because I'm going to rip him apart later." She turned and half jogged across the camp back into the RV. "Tell Daryl that until you tell him otherwise, his arse stays in that bed or I'll beat him into next month." Craig vaguely heard the doctors response.

"I still can't believe you weren't a nurse before the outbreak Georgie. You've just got such a caring manner." Both disappeared into the RV, and Craig was left sitting on the grass, wondering why surviving a zombie outbreak hadn't made him just _a__little_cooler.

**OK, ok, so this chapter is indulging my inner Shakespeare geek, I can't help myself! It has also been noted by my flatmate that my writing has become noticeably grim and she wishes I would 'give those poor people a break.' So I will try to keep the next few chapters a bit lighter, perhaps with some good old zombie killings. **


	13. Encounter

Craig started awake as a hand closed around his ankle. He yelled in shock and kicked hard, trying to shake it off, knocking Harry and Matthew in the process.

"Get it off! Get it off!" Matthew sat bolt up right, then shoved Craig hard.

"What the hell is your problem? It's only T-Dog." Matthew looked at Craig in bewilderment. Craig stopped shaking his leg and focused on the figure at the opening to his tent. T-Dog was crouched there, his hands raised in the air. Craig tried to think of a way to save his dignity, and gave up. Sitting up fully, he pulled his knees to his chest and stared sheepishly at T-Dog.

"Yeah...so..." T-Dog drew his hand back and stared back at Craig, seemingly wondering how to phrase the next sentence so he didn't have a nervous breakdown. "Rick and Ben were talking last night, about moving the camp on. Rick's been talking about going back to Atlanta. Apparently he has unfinished business there. We just wanted to know if there was anything worth going past the town for. You know, that way." T-Dog pointed past towards the hospital. Craig shook his head.

"Jus rubble, zombies and fire. No living people, no towns, no nothing." Of this Craig was certain. He'd only found one other living person before the hospital , and he hadn't even had time to find out her last name. He tried to inject some authority into his voice. "Going that way is a waste of time, gas, effort. Better off going back to Atlanta to do whatever it is Rick wants to do. Which is what anyway?" T-Dog shrugged.

"Someone back there looked after him when he first woke up into this mess. He wants to go back for them. He promised he would." T-Dog looked behind him. "Guess we'll be packing up this lot then and going back to where we came from." He didn't look too thrilled at the idea. Before Craig could ask why, he disappeared, presumably to inform Rick of the development.

Matthew and Harry wiggled out of their sleeping bags, pulling on clothes hastily.

"C'mon Matthew, let's go tell Daryl." Harry half ran, half crawled out of the tent, one shoe on, one shoe off.

"He probably already knows." Matthew cursed impressively, rubbing the sleep out of his one good eye and picking up Harry's other shoe as he stumbled out of the tent after his little brother. Craig waited until he couldn't hear his shouts anymore then flopped back down onto the tent floor. Every time he thought he'd done enough to be taken seriously as a member of the group, he managed to make himself look like an eight year old girl. No, not even an eight year old girl Sophie was eight, and he hadn't seen her make a fool out of himself the way he had repeatedly. None of the kids seemed to be that phased by the world they lived in anymore. It was like they had just accepted that this was their reality. And why wouldn't they? How much would they really remember of life pre-zombies? He sighed, feeling somewhat depressed by the thought.

"Craig! You planning on joining us any time soon?" Dales voice rang out across the camp. "There's a whole load of things to be packed up." Craig sighed and pulled himself out of the sleeping bag and out of the tent.

Outside, even though it was early morning, everyone was already busy packing up the camp. Craig wondered over to the RV, where he assumed Georgie would be. Even though Daryl was now out of the woods, she still preferred to sleep with him in the RV, and now, much to Harry and Matthews annoyance, Sophie was sleeping in there too, unwilling to be separated from Georgie for another night. Craig had been in the RV once or twice and spoken to Daryl. He didn't really know what to make of him. For starters, the man hadn't spoken directly to him once, directing most of his comments through Georgie. Then there was the fact that when he did refer to him, it was as 'Paddy' or 'Shamrock'. When he had commented on this to Georgie, she had shrugged it off.

"Yeah, um...Daryl doesn't do politically correct. He still calls Glenn Chinaman. Quite frankly, I'm amazed he doesn't refer to T-Dog as the N word." She paused. "I'd call that progress to be honest. He doesn't mean anything by it." And she seemed to be right on that point, there was no real malice behind any comments Daryl made to Craig...or rather about him. But the way Daryl looked at Craig, or glowered at him, made him feel very uncomfortable, although Craig didn't really know what he could have done to incur the man's displeasure. On the whole, he was a little bit scared of him, especially as he seemed to have recovered a lot quicker than any normal person and was no longer bed bound, despite Ben's best efforts. Regardless of this, it was clear from the way that he watched Georgie move around the RV that they were pretty close.

At this moment in time, Daryl was looking under the hood of a car, discussing something with Ben. Georgie and Adele were nearby, rolling up a tent, whilst Andrea, Miao and Sophie cleaned guns and crossbows next to them. Upon seeing Craig, Andrea waved him over.

"Craig! You need to learn this too." Craig crinkled his nose. He couldn't help feeling he'd rather know how to shoot the gun, but he didn't know anything about cars, and he wasn't sure what his other options were. He sat down and stared at the variety of metal spread out on the blanket in front of him. Everyone was busily attending to parts of guns, even Sophie was deftly polishing the barrels of guns, her small fingers deftly pushing rags through the barrel and polishing off excess oil. Craig felt lost.

"Here." Andrea handed him a gun. "Watch me and do what I do." She began to dismantle the gun in an exaggeratedly slowed down fashion. Craig watched closely and followed her as precisely as he could. Even so, he had to ask her to slow down and go over certain parts again. He couldn't help but feel embarrassed as he realised that in the time it had taken him to clean one gun, Sophie had managed to complete two and was starting on her third. Hoping to take the focus off his abysmal attempt, he asked Georgie where the rest of the camp was.

"Glen, T-Dog and Rick literally just headed into the town, to see if they can get anything else to take with us. Maggie and Dale are just taking down the tins." She gestured over to the edge of the camp, where Maggie was untying the cans, and Dale was covering her with a rifle. Craig wondered if Sophie had cleaned that one too. He looked at the guns on the rug and sighed.

"We're going to need water." A voice came from the hood of the car, and Ben emerged, looking annoyed. "This is in really bad shape. We need about two canisters."

"Send the Paddy," Daryl grunted. "Him and Sophie can carry two canisters."

"Do you mean Craig?" Andrea turned and glared pointedly at Daryl's back, not that it had any effect.

"S'what I said ain't it. Send the Paddy." Andrea sighed and looked apologetically at Craig.

"Would you mind? It's not that far and you could just take one canister at a time." Craig jumped up, happy to be away from the guns and the mundane task of cleaning them.

"It's fine, I don't mind." He shot a look at Daryl. "Are the canisters in the RV." Daryl ignored him, leaving it to Adele to respond.

"Some are in the RV, some are by the camp fire. Take the red ones, they've had gas in them anyway, so no one will drink them by accident."

"Cool." Craig picked up one of the canisters and strode quickly out of the camp. He was aware of someone shouting after him, and quickened his pace, in case they had changed their mind and wanted to send one of the kids.

Amongst the trees, it was calm and sheltered. Craig made his way down to the river, whistling and swinging the canister. There had been rain the night before, and everything felt fresh, clean and new. Although it was now well into spring, the air was still brisk and cold, and his scarred check stung. He placed his hand to the wound, and grimaced. He should have gotten Ben to re-dress it, the dressing he had placed on last night must have fallen off in the night. The fresh air would probably do it good though.

He finally reached the river, and crouched down to filled the canister. He touched the scar on his cheek again and grimaced as it started to burn. He dipped his hand into the water and splashed some on his cheek. It was ice cold, and soothing. He hesitated for a moment and then plunged his head under the water. He pulled his head up, gasping, and shock his head, like a dog. It hadn't helped much, but his face felt numbed slightly and it had helped. He twisted the cap onto the canister, stood up, turned around, and came face to face with a zombie.

The canister fell out of his hand to the floor as he stood in shock. It wasn't close to him, it was a good ten foot away, but it had spotted him, and it was closing in. One foot seemed to be broken and it dragged behind the man-or what had once been a man, but it was still moving too fast for Craig's comfort. For something that had been dead for a considerable while from the looks of it, it seemed totally focused on Craig.

Craig didn't know what to do. His instincts told him to run, but the connection between his brain and legs seemed to have been severed. In addition to this, logic told him if he ran, he would only be leading the zombie to the camp. But what else could he do? He had no gun, and even if he did, he would probably miss the thing. He couldn't shout loud enough for help, and if they could hear him at the camp, he would probably never live it down that he had to scream for help. Which left him with only one option.

As the thing reached it's hands to grab him, he swung the canister around and smacked it in the head. Stunned, it stumbled to the side, giving him a chance to smash the canister into it's head again and again. It was ineffective. Although the canister was heavy, it wasn't heavy enough to crack the zombies skull. He abandoned it and desperately scanned the area for a better alternative. His eyes landed on a fallen branch and he dashed to it, picking it up with both hands. It was reassuringly heavy. He swung wildly at the things head, and this time heard a satisfying _crack_ as its head split open. It feel to the floor, and he carried on smashing it's head in with the branch. It took a while for him to realise that he had destroyed the head and was beating a bloody patch of ground. Breathing deeply, he dropped the branch and ran his hands through his hair. Looking down at his chest, he saw he was covered in blood splatter.

His face! His open wound! Had infected blood gotten into his scar? Oh Jesus, was it trickling down from his hair into his wound now? He stared at his hands. Mercifully, they were clean of blood. He stood for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. He didn't know that blood had gotten into his wound. Could the blood have sprayed that far? Even if it had, would it infect him? He placed a hand to his forehead. What should he do?

With a shaking hand, he picked up the canister. No matter what had happened, what was going to happen to him, he needed to get the water back to camp. He moved in a daze not really registering how long it took him to get back to the camp.

As he entered, he was vaguely aware of Maggie shouting and taking his arm. He felt himself get lead somewhere, he wasn't sure where. He heard voices talking above him and at him. He didn't really become aware of who he was speaking to, or who was speaking to him until he felt cold metal against his temple.

"DARYL!" Georgie's voice broke through his consciousness. "For Gods sake put the gun down. We don't even know if he's been bitten." Craig turned his head and finally saw his surroundings clearly. He looked around the group of worried faces until he found Ben. Holding his gaze, he gestured towards his scar.

"Wasn't bitten. But blood...blood could have..." He couldn't finish the sentence. He felt the metal press harder against his temple momentarily, and then the gun was removed. Ben swallowed and looked deep in thought.

"If he is infected, no matter how small the blood, we'll know by the end of the day. In fact, we'll know sooner than that. If he starts to run a fever or feel ill, then we know. But..." he pressed his hand on Craig's face. "This scar, it's pretty well scabbed over. And there's no blood anywhere else on his face. It's a safe bet that he'll be fine." He smiled reassuringly at Craig. "Why don't you grab a shirt from inside the RV and lets burn that one."

"Wait." Adele spoken her face creased in confusion. "Why did you beat the walker with a log? Why didn't you just shoot it?"

"I...I..." Craig thought for a moment. "I didn't take a gun." Adele stared at him. Then, in a slow deliberate movement, she raised her hand and clipped him sharply around the back of the head. Craig swore, and stared at her indignantly.

"You're telling me, that you went into the forest, alone, knowing what sort of world we live in, and you didn't take a gun? What the fuck is wrong with you?" She glared at him. Craig opened his mouth and then closed it. He didn't really have an answer. Adele shook her head. "Never do that again. Ever." She crossed her arms and looked at Ben. "Let's sort this car out then." She and Ben moved away from Craig. Georgie looked at Craig and smiled.

"Luck of the Irish much?" She punched him lightly on the arm. "You'll be 'right." She winked, and then moved to the one remaining tent. Harry and Matthew moved with her. Craig rubbed his eyes and breathed in, then looked up again. Daryl was stood there, staring down at him, as if he was nothing more than something on the bottom of his shoe.

"What?" Daryl stared at him and then spoke directly to him for the first time since they had met.

"If ya even show a hint of turnin' Potata man, I'm blowin ya brains out myself." Craig stared at him. "I ain't havin no filthy geek near me, Harry, Matthew or..." He stopped. Craig swallowed, then spoke back.

"Trust me. If I feel meself turning, I'll kneel on the floor ta make it easier fer you." Daryl regarded him, then nodded. As he walked away, he casually spoke over his shoulder.

"Ya better. Because if I have ta come ta ya, imma hack you inta pieces."


	14. Hope

**Rick **

Rick cast a wary eye over the surrounding area. The group was well on their way back to Atlanta, back to Duane and Morgan. He shouldn't have left it so long to go back. He'd promised Morgan and Duane he'd let them know if Atlanta was safe, but he hadn't managed to get in touch with them. Since they had moved away from the prison and the lodge, the radio had been too far out of range to connect with them. Anything could have happened.

"What do you think boss?" Rick turned to Adele. Despite his instructions, she had come out of the RV, and was sat on the step, sword in hand, looking at him expectantly. He sighed, and looked back.

"Seems as safe as anywhere else we've been." He pointed to the trees. "We can take some cover there. And there's a sign to a small town there. Maybe we can get some supplies." He walked back to Adele. Something must have shown on his face, because she stood up, looking at him quizzically.

"But...?"

"Everywhere we settle something bad happens. I just..."he shook his head.

"Hey. It's not your fault. These things just happen. It's the world we live in." She put her hand on his shoulder. "Look at all the people left. We're not going down without a fight." Rick nodded numbly. He knew what she was saying was true, but he was still worried. Adele's hand tightened on his shoulder and he smiled shakily at her.

"Best get everyone unloaded then. We've been in those cars for the best part of three days, we could do with a night out of them."

"THANK GOD." Andrea and Craig walked out of the RV so quickly that they must have had their ears pressed up against the door. As predicted, Craig was not infected. Either the blood from the walker had missed his wound completely, or the amount that had splattered into it was too small to cause infection. In any case, the experience had spurred Craig into actually learning to fire a gun.

"Man, if I had to stay in that piece a tin fer one more hour, me legs were gonna start ter shrink." Rick smiled in spite of himself. Craig walked down the line and banged merrily on the car and truck doors. The rest of the group slowly and stiffly emerged from the vehicles: T-Dog fussing around Miao, Sophie and Carl bolting out of the cars and rushing around the surrounding area.

"Sophie, Carl. Don't do that, no one's secured the area yet." Matthew spoke sharply, looking around the area with his one good eye, hand on rifle. Ever since the hospital incident, Matthew seemed to have grown up, putting himself in charge of looking after the younger children. Rick wondered if he was trying to somehow make up for getting himself into trouble and putting Georgie, Andrea and T-Dog into danger.

"They'll be fine Matthew." Andrea smiled gently at Matthew. "Let them burn off some energy. As long as they stay away from the trees, they'll be fine." Even so, she cast a quick glance across the fields, as if she was looking for some unseen enemy.

"Oh for gods sake Theodore!" Daryl spluttered with laughter as Miao snapped out T-Dog's full name. "I am barely even three months. Stop fussing over me!" T-Dog stepped back momentarily, hands held in the air. Miao's glare subsided almost immediately and, she smiled sheepishly at him. Ricks gut twisted as T-Dog jokingly advanced, hands still held in a surrender pose, and he turned away. He didn't begrudge anyone in the camp being happy, finding a someone to love. But he still missed Lori. Watching other people be together, find comfort with each other had been hard enough. But now Miao was pregnant and he was watching Lori's pregnancy all over again. He was the only one who hadn't officially congratulated either T-Dog or Miao on their news properly. He wanted to, he desperately wanted to. But every time he thought about Miao's pregnancy, he could only think of his baby, the one he'd lost at the prison.

"We going for supplies now, or tomorrow morning?" Andreas voice broke through Ricks thoughts, and he turned to her, eyebrows raised.

"A little keen aren't you?" Andrea laughed.

"We all are. Georgie's bored out of her mind. Apparently Daryl does not make a stimulating conversational partner for two days."

"I need a book!" Georgie called from the hood of the car, where she was sat chatting to Maggie and Ben. Rick rubbed his chin with his one hand.

"Might as well do it now. Won't take us that long to get what we need. Town's probably been gutted anyway."

"That's the spirit." Adele clapped him on the back.

"I'm in." Daryl walked up, crossbow in hand. Adele raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you should be..."

"Don't gimme any of that shit. I'm fine." Rick shrugged wearily.

"We probably don't need everyone who's handy to come. You, me, Andrea and Daryl should be ok I think. The rest of you guys can set up the camp. We'll leave in fifteen." Everyone nodded, satisfied. As the group started to busy themselves with various jobs, Carl started to look through the car that he and Rick had been travelling in.

"Which gun are you going to take with you dad?" He pulled out his semi automatic and held it out to him. Horrified, Rick snatched it off him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You know better than to meddle with these, they're dangerous Carl." Carl glowered at him.

"If they're so dangerous, how come Harry and Matthew and Sophie all have one? Daryl and Georgie teach them how to shoot them, load them and clean them. Sophie even has a _BOW _just like Georgie. It's not fair. They can go further than me, and do all the cool things and I have to stay in camp all the time like a baby."

"I don't care what Georgie and Daryl let them do, you're my son, and I say you're too young to have a gun." Rick snapped. Undeterred, Carl pressed on with his argument.

"I shot the walkers at the prison, Georgie and Adele taught me how to shoot and I'm probably almost nine by now. I _AM _old enough, you just have to give me a chance, please dad, please..,"

"DAMMIT Carl, I said no." The stunned look on Carls face made Rick realise he'd shouted the last sentence at him. Carl took a deep breath, and then threw the gun to the ground. Clenching his fists, he stared at the ground. Then he said, in not much more than a whisper:

"I wish Georgie and Daryl _were _looking after me. Then I'd be treated like a grown up."

The words struck Rick like a dagger in his heart. Before he could collect his senses, Carl had run away, barging into Adele, who looked after him, then to Rick.

"Everything ok?" Rick recovered his senses, and nodded numbly.

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine."

It was less than an hour later that they found themselves on the outskirts of the town, as usual leaving the car covered and hidden from sight. There were no signs warning outsiders of infection, nor were there any walkers roaming the roads. Andrea whispered that so much time had passed since the initial outbreak, that it was likely that the walkers had wondered away to look for food.

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't still be careful," Rick cautioned. He had a feeling that his words fell on deaf ears, as Adele and Daryl walked ahead. He turned to Andrea. "Do those two just have a death wish?" Andrea laughed as they moved on behind them.

In the town, it was as eerily quiet as it had been in Atlanta when Rick had ridden in on the ill fated horse he'd found at the farm and in the small town Georgie had taken them too. The atmosphere was reminiscent of an old Western film, helped by the fact that the majority of the buildings were wooden. Rick looked around, trying to spot Adele or Daryl.

"Guys. Over here." Rick and Andrea turned to see Adele beckoning them into what looked like a small grocery store. She emerged further out from the building, waving a tin at them triumphantly. "This place is full of food. Guess people avoided the area thinking it was infested."

'_It still could be,_' Rick wanted to say. He remembered the calm before the storm, when a walker had bitten down on Georgie's arm. If it hadn't been for her leather jacket...He pulled himself back into focus and took the tin from Adele. Canned Tomatoes: expiry date November 2013. "What year are we in?"

"Not 2013, I can tell you that now." Adele moved back inside the building. "There's dried beans and things here too, pulses and grains. They'll keep for a few months, as long as we keep them dry." Rick motioned to Andrea to follow inside. With only one hand, he figured he was better off outside keeping watch, rather than using his one hand to scoop tins into rucksacks. Looking up and down the street, he was struck by a sudden thought.

"Where's Daryl gone? Is he checking the back?"

"No. The back doors shut, so nothings getting through. He said he was going to find the gun store." Rick bristled at the mention of the word gun. Maybe he should let Carl have his own. It wasn't as if there weren't enough people around to watch him with it. He couldn't rely on him being able to get hold of one every time he was in danger. If he had his own, he would be armed at all times. And Georgie and Adele had taught him and Sophie well at the prison. Would it be such a big deal if he...

Something gripped on to his ankle and pulled weakly. He glanced down and shouted in horror.

A walker was hanging onto his ankle, using it to pull itself closer to his leg. He shook it off and stepped back. It groaned, and pulled itself closer to him, reaching out its arms. Rick pulled out his gun, and then stopped, confused.

Most walkers that crawled on the floor like this one was doing had no legs. He remembered all too well the woman on the bike that he had seen back at Morgan and Duane's. Yet this one had both legs intact, and they didn't look broken, or so badly decomposed that it (it's sex was, at this stage of rotting, totally undeterminable) was incapable of being supported on them. So why was it crawling? He crouched down, and looked at it. It wasn't even moving as fast as the woman on the bike, in fact, it was moving painstakingly slowly. More than that, it seemed to be taking it a considerable amount of effort even to lift it's arm to move forward. Rick hesitated, and then stretched his stump out, above the creatures head. It stopped and started to snap slowly at his wound. But it's arms seemed almost too heavy for it to lift and grab his arm, and it's head remained on the floor. He pulled his arm back and stared at it thoughtfully.

"Holy crap!" Adele's blunt shriek made him start. She drew her sword and pointed it at the creature.

"Stop." Rick put his arm out before Adele could swing at its head. "There's something weird about this one. It's like...like it's too weak. It knows it wants to bite me..."he held his arm out over it and demonstrated. A sharp intake of breath told him Andrea was watching. "But it can't." He stood up and turned to the two women, beaming all over his face. "Do you know what this means?" Andrea shrugged. "It means all we have to do is survive long enough for the walkers to get too weak to move. It means this doesn't have to be permanent!"

Adeles face lit up. "We could just pick them off as they lay there! We wouldn't have to worry about them sneaking up on us." She turned to Andrea, who looked cautiously optimistic. She looked at the walker, who seemed to be regaining its strength and then looked at Rick.

"Why aren't they all like this then? Why are some still wondering around and mobile?"

"Natural selection?" Adele broke in before Rick could answer. "Even in the Zombie universe, some are going to be better than others. Maybe this one was just slower than the others." Andrea nodded thoughtfully. A slow smile crept across her face.

"Well. Some hope is better than no hope."

"Exactly." Adele looked at the walker, and then with one fluid movement, sliced off the top of its head. She threw a bulging rucksack at Rick. "We've got most of the tins from that store, but I bet that there are other stores like this. We should come back and stock up." Rich nodded, then looked up and down the street.

"Where the hell is Daryl? Surely he should have found the gun store by now?" He gripped his gun tightly and stepped out into the road. Should he have let the man go off by himself. He wasn't 100% better, no matter what he said. Was he cornered somewhere, hurt or injured? As his thoughts ran wild, two buildings up, a door started to rattle wildly.

"Ok, time to move people." Rick started to back down the street.

"But what about Daryl-"

Andrea barely had time to finish the sentence, when the door burst open, and Daryl staggered into the street. He turned and looked at the doorway, and then pulled his bag, crossbow and a small rectangular object out of the building. Walking down the street, he looked at Rick.

"Wut?" Rick pointed at the door behind him.

"What the hell was that? Any walker in the region will have heard that and come swarming now." Daryl shrugged.

"Ain't no walkers here." He noticed the one lying at the grocery doorway. "None but that one anyways." He pointed at the building he had burst out of. "Wen' in th back of that shop, n the front was jammed." He pulled the rucksack onto his back. "Ain't a gun shop. Place ter buy knives though. Most of em are gone, but ai picked up some sharpeners." Rick nodded approvingly.

"Not a bad idea. What's that though." He motioned to the rectangular object in Daryls hand. Daryl self consciously attempted to push it into his back pocket.

"S'nothin. Jus a book." He started to walk back towards to the outskirts of town. Rick raised an eyebrow at Andrea, as Adele trotted to catch up with Daryl. She attempted to snatch the book from him.

"The complete works of Shakespeare?" Daryl pushed her away, muttering under his breath. Andrea swung her rucksack on her back, and nudged Rick knowingly.

"I bet I know who that's for," she whispered, winking. Rick tried to smile, but his heart sank. So he wasn't imagining it. Daryl and Georgie were getting closer. He'd seen it coming for a while, but ever since he'd thought she was Lori in the hotel, he'd felt a little closer to her. He knew this was only because of the hallucination, but still. He changed the subject.

"We could stay here." He gestured back to the town. "If we did a proper sweep of the area, established if there was a decent water supply, and checked for walkers, we could set up here." Andrea stopped and looked back at the town.

"Yeah...yeah we could. We've seen worse. And it would be nice to...to have a house." She moved on again, quickening her step to keep up with Daryl and Adele. "We should come back tomorrow, check it out thoroughly, with more people. If nothing else, we could stay here whilst you go and get Duane and Morgan. Miao especially could do with not having to move around so much." She punched Rick lightly on the arm. "I think things are looking up you know."

Rick took one last look at the town before he got back into the car. He had a feeling that Andrea was right.


	15. Promises

**Warning. Could contain spoilers for the season. **

In the end, it took them a little over three weeks to move into the town. Rick refused to take any chances and made sure that a through sweep was made of the town. Once every house had been investigated and cleared of the few Walkers that were left, he organized a search for basic tools. Once they had collected them, he got the group to create a wall surrounding the town, pulling down older wooden buildings to supply the wood. The noise from the hammers attracted one or two walkers, but with Andrea and Dale on lookout, none of them came close. Finally, when the small town was surrounded by a decent wooden wall, with a smallish gate, Rick had brought up the subject of Atlanta.

"I don't want you to go." Adele spoke first. "You don't even know that they're still there. You don't even know they're still alive. We need you here. It's suicide and you know it." With a sinking feeling, Rick could see that the rest of the group seemed to agree.

"I have to go. You don't understand, I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for this man." He paused, trying to collect his thoughts, to convince them of his case. "When I woke up, I had no idea what had happened. I was sat in the street, waving at a walker, asking him what was going on. That thing would have bitten me if Morgan hadn't got it. They took me in. They fed me. They helped me set up to get here. I have to...I have to see." He studied his hand intently. Everyone was silent and still.

"I'll come with you." Rick started and looked up. T-Dog was looking at him, dead in the eye.

"T-Dog, no..." Maggie put a hand on his arm and looked at him imploringly. "What about Miao and the baby?" A mix of emotions came over T-Dogs face, and he looked towards Miao. She swallowed and then slowly smiled.

"Rick, you're gonna go no matter what we want aren't you? So, I guess you need back up. I couldn't live with myself if you went, and didn't come back...and I did nothing..." He trailed off slowly. Rick opened his mouth and then closed it. He knew T-Dog well enough now to see that his mind was as made up as his own.

"Thanks T-Dog. I...I appreciate it." T-Dog nodded and wrapped his arm around Miao, who seemed on the verge of tears.

"I'll come too." Daryl spoke up from the edge of the group. Leant against the wall, he stood up and shot a glance at T-Dog. "If yer watchin' Rick, who's watchin' you?" Rick groaned inwardly. He knew Daryl meant well, and he was a hell of a lot more easy going than his brother seemed to have been, but he wasn't sure if Morgan would be able to cope with Daryl as well as T-Dog, who had the advantage of having saved Daryl's life, and being use to his blunt way of speaking. Thankfully, Andrea spared him having to explain himself.

"Sending two able bodies away on this suicide mission is enough," she snapped at Daryl.

"Shut up ya blonde bint!" Daryl growled back at her. "Ai said I'm goin' an I'm goin'."

"Daryl, she's right." T-Dog looked at his friend over Miaos head. "You need to be here, with Matthew and Harry. And..." he motioned towards Miao. "And you're still suppose to be taking that stuff from Ben. It's not practical." Daryl had looked like he wanted to argue, but faced with T-Dogs logic, he fell silent. The group had dissolved not long after, no-one looking happy at all. He and T-Dog had left in one of the older cars early the next morning, with strict instructions from Glenn to look for newer and healthier models.

It took them another four days to get to the neighborhood that Rick remembered leaving Morgan and Duane in. The closer they got, the more Adele's words rang in his ears. What if the pair were dead? What if he was too late? He felt a knot in his stomach twist and was unable to stop fidgeting. He attempted to pass the time with conversation, finally finding the courage to congratulate T-Dog on his impending fatherhood.

"Thanks. I know it must be really hard on you." T-Dog smiled briefly at Rick, before turning his attention to the road.

"That's no excuse for the way I've been acting about it." Rick racked his brains for a moment. "Look, I know I've been a complete and utter...TWAT-" T-Dog exploded in laughter "-as Georgie and Adele would say about the situation, but if you need any advice about what to expect or anything like that, well...I have.._had_ two kids. I can point you in the right direction."

"Thanks man." T-Dog smiled at Rick again. "I mean it, that's really cool of you."

"Yeah, well, you're a good friend. And a good man. And, you'll be a great father."

An uncomfortable silence fell in the car, the sort of silence that always follows a male show of emotion.

"Actually, I have got a question." T-Dog said suddenly. "When the hell does she stop going so crazy over everything? Tell me that only lasts for part of the pregnancy." Rick laughed.

"I'm afraid for the next six months, the hormones will overrule logic and reason." T-Dog gave an exaggerated groan.

"Are you kidding me? She's insane, actually insane. Me and Craig brought home some rabbits from the woods the day before we left and she burst into tears at the sight of them. She's never even batted an eyelid before. And then when I said I was coming with you, she was fine. Almost serene about the whole thing. Apparently I had a fairer chance then the rabbits!" He shook his head in bewilderment as Rick laughed.

"Tell me about it. When Lori was pregnant with Carl, I'd come home and find her eating soap."

"No shit?"

"Whole bars of it. And you know them hand pumps of liquid soap? She'd drink them like soda. That isn't even the craziest thing. When the midwife told her she had to stop, she starts crying like a fountain. I was amazed she didn't cry soap bubbles!" T-Dog shook his head.

"That's another thing. Cravings. Miao hasn't had any yet, but when she gets them, I'm worried it'll be stuff I can't get hold of. I want to make the pregnancy easy on her, you know? It's hard enough living this way, without being pregnant."

"Well-" Rick opened his mouth to reassure T-Dog, but stopped before the words came out. "Stop."

"We here?" T-Dog slowed the car down. Rick nodded. This was defiantly the neighborhood. Everything was overgrown, but it was defiantly the place.

"Turn left here, and then it's the first house." T-Dog obeyed, and pulled up outside the house. Rick opened the passenger door, pistol in his good hand, T-Dog followed, covering him with a shotgun.

"Make it fast," T-Dog said. "We got company." Rick looked up. Two walkers were moving slowly towards them from the other end of the road. So far, they were the only one. T-Dog took aim. "We've got a while before they get here, but I'd rather I didn't have to shoot at all."

"Ok." Rick nodded. "I'll go see if they're still here." He approached the house.

It looked far worse for wear then the last time he'd seen it. Deep scratch marks penetrated the walls, and the shutter door was hanging off its hinges. One of the windows had been smashed and boarded up. He walked to the door, heart in his mouth.

'_Please God', _he thought_,' please let them be ok. Don't let me be too late.'_

He reached out his hand to pull aside the door, but before he could reach it, he felt a familiar dull pain on the side of his head. He fell to the floor and groaned.

"RICK!" T-Dogs voice rang out panicked. "Oh shit!" Rick could hear deep breathing above him. He pushed himself up onto all fours, relief flooding his veins.

"Duane! Duane, it's ok, it's me Rick." He looked up at the figure with the shovel.

A figure that was far too tall to be Duane. With wild overgrown hair, and an unshaven face and a desperate look in wild bloodshot eyes. The man lifted the shovel again, ready to swing.

"Drop it, or I'll shot!" Rick heard the click of the rifle.

"NO!" He scrambled to his feet as the shovel came down again. "MORGAN! What's wrong, it's me Rick. Come on Morgan, I know you remember."

Morgan stopped and stared at Rick, as if seeing him for the first time.

"R...Rick?" He dropped the shovel in shock. "Is it...is it really you?" He stared down at his hands. "Oh lord." He dropped to his knees. Tears streamed down his face. "Oh God..."

"Morgan..."Rick placed his hand on his shoulder. "Morgan, where's Duane?" Morgan looked up at Rick, blankly. Rick suddenly registered a scrabbling and growling coming from inside the house. He stared at the door. "Morgan..."

Morgan placed his head in his hands.

"I couldn't get there in time. I heard him scream. I ran so fast. But...but..."

Rick felt his insides dissolve. He pushed open the door.

Inside was Duane, chained to a nail on the floor. Bones surrounded him, blood poured from his mouth, his sightless eyes fixed on Rick.

And a single bite, marked his small, thin arm.

**KK, so like I've said before I'm trying to stick to events in the comics, and unfortunately this does happen. Hence the warning about possible season spoilers (I don't know how far they'll go, or if they'll go back for Morgan and Duane)**

**I also want to try out a plot line, but I'm not sure about it's validness, so I'd like your opinions! Please message me so I can ask your advice!**

**And of course, review, review, review!**


	16. Feartheliving

**Glenn**

Glenn threw a rock into the lake, and watched it skim across the lake. It had been around a week since T-Dog and Rick had left, and Rick had left strict instructions that no one in the community was to leave the safety of the walls alone, which was reasonable enough. But now, Glenn was getting server cabin fever. He'd snuck out of the gates after he'd failed to convince anyone to come out with him, or find anyone who would be willing. Andrea and Dale had been playing a board game with the children that they had found in one of the houses, Miao was suffering morning sickness, whilst Craig and Maggie just refused to venture out beyond the walls. Ben had been sorting out the small doctors office, whilst Daryl, Georgie and Adele were nowhere to be found. Impatient to see something other than wooden walls, Glenn had slipped away.

"_Half an hour_", he'd thought to himself. "_I'll just be out for half an hour and no-one will notice._" And now it was half an hour since he'd left and he found himself unwilling to go back. He considered staying for five more minutes, but decided against it. Five minutes could-and would-easily turn into ten, then fifteen. Better to stick to what he'd promised himself and make sure he got back unnoticed.

He moved through the woodland, slowly, trying not to make too much noise, conscious that he may still attract walkers roaming through the area. There had been one or two when they were building the fence, and he didn't want to take any chances. Still, he was a lot more relaxed then he usually was. Which was why he didn't hear the rustling, or footsteps until it was right behind him.

"What the-!" He whirled himself around pointing his gun straight into Georgie's face.

"Hey!" She laughed, and placed her hand on the gun, lowering it gently. "At least you heard me in the end huh?" She looked around him, as Daryl came up behind her, a bundle of rabbits tied to his hip. "Who else is out here with you?"

"_Busted_," thought Glenn. "Well, erm, I just came out for some fresh air you know..."

"Fucks sake Chinaman." Daryl put down his crossbow, and hitched up his trousers, eyeing Glenn in disapproval. "Ya know we gotta go out in twos." He nodded at Georgie. "Why ya think this one's following me aroun'?"

"I know, I know." Glenn felt like an abashed school boy. "I just didn't want to stay cooped up inside anymore and no one else wanted to come out and you guys were out her..." he trailed off.

"Hunting rabbits," Georgie blurted. Glenn looked at her.

"Yeah. Oh come on guys, don't let on to Maggie, please?" Daryl snorted and passed him a rabbit, moving back towards the camp. Georgie laughed and linked arms with Glenn. He noticed a small purple bruise on the base of her neck. Suddenly something clicked in his head. He poked the bruise gently, and watched Georgie blush.

"Hunting rabbits huh?" He watched her face get even redder, and then she did something he never thought he'd hear her do. She giggled.

"Well, yeah, that." She looked up at the sky and then at Daryl's back, then back at Glenn. "And then..._THAT_." Glenn tutted in mock disapproval.

"_SLUT_!" Georgie shoved him playfully.

"Please. The way you and Maggie go at it, I'm actually as to how Maio got pregnant first." Glenn groaned.

"Believe me, she wants a baby. And since Miao got pregnant..." he shook his head.

"Ooo, Glen, get some, get some!" Glenn laughed and pushed Georgie in front of him. She half tripped, half skipped away from him, and caught up with Daryl. She said something to him, and he turned his head to look at Glenn. He nodded at him briefly and then touched Georgie on the base of her back. It was a quick touch, but it was clear that somewhere in the last month, they'd finally pulled it together.

"Come on Glenn!" Georgie stopped Daryl and motioned him towards them. "Do you want people to think you snuck out alone? Keep up!" Glenn sighed, and broke into a trot. He'd barely taken two steps, when he heard a strange creaking sound, like a branch being pulled around. He froze and looked towards the woods, where Georgie and Daryl had emerged from, where the sound had come from. He half hoped he'd imagined it, but Georgie and Daryl were staring in the same direction,

"Wait here." Daryl shoved the rabbits in Georgie's stomach and moved into the thickets.

"Like hell I am." Georgie motioned to Glenn, and followed Daryl. "Stay close Glenn, and take your gun off the safety ok?" Glenn looked down at his gun and sighed. Obviously he'd gotten sloppy since being in the village. He followed Georgie's path, nervously looking behind them. Georgie had her rifle raised in front of her. He wondered why she hadn't brought her own crossbow.

"God dammit woman, I told you both to wait behind." Daryl's voice rang out in front of them. There was something strange about it, he sounded strained, almost panicky. "Don't come no further, ain't nothing to see." Georgie stopped and looked at Glenn, her face confused.

"If there's nothing to see, why do we need to stay here?" She pushed through the leaves into the clearing where Daryl was and then stopped dead. "Oh my God." She lowered the rifle slowly and put one hand to her mouth. "Oh my fucking God."

As Glenn moved around her, he couldn't see anything unusual at first. Then he saw Daryl getting up from a pile on the ground and move towards Georgie.

"Don't look, don't neither of you look." He turned Georgie around and motioned to Glenn to do the same. But it was too late, Glenn had seen the whole scene and felt sick to his stomach. On the ground, a man lay, a hole to his head where Daryl had presumably shot him. He looked like he might have been of Arab or Indian descent, but he was defiantly dead now. But it didn't look like it was the arrow that killed him.

Around his neck was a rope. At first, Glenn felt a surge of pity. If only the man had walked for thirty more minutes. Thirty more minutes and he'd have found safety and a reason to go on. Then he registered that the mans hands were tied behind his back. And then, he saw the mark on the tree. Carved deeply into the bark, angry strong lines slashing the tree.

A swastika.

"Fucking Nazis'?" He felt bile rise in his throat. He walked with Georgie and Daryl numbly towards the camp. "What, walkers aren't enough, now there are Nazis everywhere?" Daryl eyed him, his hand on Georgie's shoulder. She turned to Daryl.

"T-Dog and Miao...what do we do?" She followed his eye back to Glenn, and looked back at Daryl meaningfully. Glenn knew what she was thinking. He wasn't black, but he sure wasn't Caucasian.

"Georgie." Glenn suddenly started to think clearer. "We don't know that they even know where we are. We've got the advantage here, just like in the hotel. We'll be fine." How he even managed to say it, he had no idea, not when he felt sick to his own stomach.

They walked in silence towards the camp, Glenn's legs threatening to collapse under him all the way. When they reached the gate, Georgie slipped in first. Glenn went to follow her, but Daryl stopped him.

"Listen. Ya gotta stay in the walls now. Ya listening?" Glenn stared at him whilst he continued to talk. "It's too risky for ya. If these are the real fuckin' deal, they'll string ya up. An ya gotta keep Georgie inside the walls too."

"Why?" Glenn felt confused. "She can take care of herself. She'll be fine." Daryl paused.

"Remember Merle?" His mouth twisted on his brother's name. Glenn nodded. It had been around a year, but he still remembered the older Dixon. Thinking about it, it was both obvious how the two were related, and yet impossible to believe. "These people...they're Merles kinda people, ya get me?" Again, Glenn nodded. He still didn't follow Daryl's train of thought. Daryl nodded towards the gap where Georgie had slipped through. "If he was here, an' he knew me an' Georgie were together...I'd have more n a bust lip an black eye. I'd be dead. Cause ya see, only thin Merle hated more then a non white, was a blood betrayer."

"A what?" Glenn didn't follow. Daryl looked impatient.

"Come on man. Georgie ain't white. Not full white. Ai always kinda knew. But when we was talkin' bout family, she tol' me. Her Grandma was black. An she's bout a quarter. Ain't you ever noticed?" He shifted his feet, annoyed at Glenns lack of racial knowledge. "If ya got even a drop of neg-" He caught himself in time, "-black blood in ya, these people'll smell it out. So you, Miao, Georgie, ya all stay in the walls, got it?" Glenn nodded. He didn't really need telling twice. His need to wonder outside the village had suddenly disappeared. He slipped through the gap and out into the street of the village.

"Glenn!" Maggie's arms wrapped around his neck almost instantly, making him jump. "You sneaked out! Don't ever do that again, I've been worried sick!" She stepped back and held him at arms length. "What's wrong? You look really...pale?"

Glenn shook himself. "We...we need to collect everyone together. We need to tell you something."


	17. Warningshot

**Georgie**

Georgie sighed, and stretched her legs out onto the top of the wooden wall. Restlessly, she passed her rifle from hand to hand and then, placing it onto her lap, stretched her arms above her head.

She was bored.

It had been two days since she, Glenn and Daryl had discovered the hanging body and the swastika. Rick and T-Dog still hadn't returned, and the camp had turned to her, Daryl and Adele to figure out what to do. Unfortunately-for her at least-the plan of action the camp had liked the best, was Daryl's, which had been to keep everyone who wasn't white inside the village until the location of the others (she couldn't bring herself to admit what they really were) could be determined. She had pretty much torn Daryl a new one about that, but he'd remained stubborn, even telling Glenn and Miao to keep an eye on her and tell him if she tried to sneak off. Sure enough, every ten minutes or so, Glenn arrived at the bottom of one of the life guard style chairs they'd constructed as a look out post over the wall with every increasingly pathetic excuses to check she was still there. She didn't know what he expected her to do-swan dive over the wall? She wondered what he would do if she went and hid.

Daryl, Andrea and Adele were out hunting for food/scouting the area for the others. She grinned slightly at the thought, knowing that both the women would be grilling Daryl about their supposed undercover romance. She rubbed the bruise on her neck. No one seemed willing to believe that before the, slightly awkward, make out session in the woods, nothing had actually happened between her and Daryl. She supposed gossip was one way of passing the time. It didn't bother her that much, but Daryl went ever increasing shades of red every time it was mentioned. She hadn't bothered to try to ease his discomfort, as far as she was concerned, it was karma for not letting her out beyond the walls. She'd told him as much last night.

"Ya can't go out. Woman, why ain't cha listening ta me? It's too dangerous, did ya see that man strung up? Ya wan that ta be you?" Georgie had taken a deep breath and tried to put her case forward again.

"You know I can handle myself Daryl. I'm not like...Maggie or Miao. I can throw a punch, I don't need babysitting, and I REALLY don't need to be locked up. I've had to stay inside for one day and I'm already going insane. Call Glenn off, give me my gun and let me out."

"No. Ya stayin' in the walls." Georgie had stared Daryl down for a moment and then, hating herself for doing something so useless and _girly_, she'd stormed out of his house, slamming the door and strode back to her house across the street. She vaguely remembered hearing Maggie call out something about a 'lovers tiff?' but had ignored her, wrenching open her front door, and throwing herself onto the couch. She stared at the pictures above the fireplace. She'd taken down all the ones of the previous owners, creeped out by strangers staring at her, but had managed to find some nice ones of landscapes. As long as she didn't think about the fact that they were probably places that the previous owners had been on holiday, they gave the place a homely look, which she thought was probably important for Sophie. She'd been around all the houses, scavenging toys she thought Sophie might like and had dumped them in one of the bedrooms upstairs. At first, Sophie had been vaguely unimpressed, claiming she was too old for toys, and making a big show of practicing with her small crossbow. But once or twice, when Georgie had looked in on her, she had caught her playing with the dolls, or sleeping with a teddy. She liked the normality, even if she couldn't quite get use to it. But she didn't want it forced on her.

Daryl had turned up about ten minutes later; she'd opened the door to see him stood there with a large bottle of whiskey in his hand. She had no idea where he'd found it. She considered briefly taking the bottle and slamming the door in his face, but decided as far as apologies went, this was immense. She stood aside and let him in.

"Ai don't think you're useless an weak n that." Daryl spoke almost as soon as he got in the door. "Ya know I don't. It's jus...e'vry time I rush inta stuff somethin' bad happens." He followed her to the kitchen, and opened the whiskey as she pulled out two tumblers out of one of the cupboards. "Matthews eye...that's my fault. N the crap that Joe gave ya afta we found Ben..." he trailed off as he poured the whiskey into the glasses. Georgie watched him. It always surprised her when Daryl went into deep thought. She looked at the burn scars on his arm and neck, and wondered how he could think he had any control over the actions of others. He pushed one tumbler towards her and she picked it up. The amber liquid swirled in the glass and she sniffed it doubtfully. She'd never had whiskey before, and if the smell was anything to go by, she wouldn't have it again. Daryl downed his in one gulp, and refilled the tumbler. He looked at Georgie.

"It's jus til T-Dog n Rick get back. They'll know what ta do better then I do. They think things through." Georgie almost raised her eyebrows but stopped herself. That had almost sounded like a compliment to Rick. She raised the tumbler to her mouth and sipped the whiskey, then spat it out.

"Urk, that's vile." She pulled a face and put the tumbler down. "That's NASTY Daryl." Daryl grinned at her face and tipped the rest of the contents of her tumbler into his. She shook her head and placed her glass into the sink, then leaned against it to face Daryl.

"You're getting better at not reacting off the hoof to things though." She folded her arms and watched his face. "And the stuff you're talking about, you can't control what Matthew decides to do, anymore then you could have stopped Joe. And anyway, Joe was sick and deprived; he'd have found another way to get at me." Daryl's face darkened at the mention of Joe's name. He opened his mouth to speak, but Georgie rushed on. "Yes he would Daryl. He scarred me before you even knew I existed, so he'd have carried on if you were there or not." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're such a drama queen." Daryl said nothing, but drained the rest of his tumbler, looking unconvinced. She moved to him, and kissed him on his cheek.

"I forgive you for keeping me prisoner. I guess you mean well. But I'm not defending you against the gossip. Mainly because it's so funny to watch you squirm." Daryl glowered at her and she laughed. "But as soon as Rick and T-Dog get back with Duane and Morgan, I want my freedom. I've got my rights you know, even if I am just a half caste." She said the last phrase jokingly, but Daryl's face went rigid.

"Don't say that. S'what Merle use ta say all the time."

"Ok, I'm sorry." She pulled away from Daryl and went back to the living room, flopping on the sofa and picking up the blue Shakespeare book Daryl had thrown at her three or four weeks ago. Or rather, he'd thrown it in her direction, but had somehow managed to hit poor Craig in the head with it. She flicked through the pages, and opened at a random page.

_Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head._

"You're preaching to the choir Will," she sighed to herself. She turned to see Daryl stood in the doorway and shifted over to make room for him.

"I want to be on lookout at least," she said as he sat down. "Call it a compromise."

"Deal."

And so she'd spent the majority of the day sat in the lookout chair, waiting for something, anything interesting to happen. Three hours had passed, and nothing interesting had happened. She was seriously considering going to her house for her book, when something moved in the trees. She sat up and leant forward, pulling her rifle off her lap. She didn't want to raise it, not yet, but she didn't want to be caught unawares. She squinted into the trees, trying to figure out who was watching her.

"Georgie? Is something wrong?" Dale came up behind her chair/

"I think someone's out there. Watching us." Georgie turned to Dale and frowned. She started to ask him to go grab his rifle, but realised he already had it. "Do you mind being my second pair of eyes?" Dale nodded and made his way towards the chair to Georgie's left.

Suddenly, a shot rang through the air, and Georgie felt a shooting pain down the right side of her face. She gasped, and placed her hand to her face. Blood seeped down a small cut across her cheek.

"Shit! Georgie, you ok?" Dale was at the foot of her chair, staring up at her.

"I'm fine Dale, it's just a scratch." She clambered down the chair and stared at her hand. "Well, they're definitely not friendly. And they want to scare us." Dale nodded.

"They didn't shoot to kill, they shot to wound." He examined her cheek carefully. "It's just a nick." Georgie sighed.

"Can we not tell Daryl that I was shot? I'm already going insane not being allowed out, if he finds this out, then I'm confined to my room." Dale shook his head.

"We have to tell him that a shot was fired at us."

"Yeah, but we don't have to tell him it hit _ME _is what I'm saying." Dale frowned and opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, the sound of a car engine made them freeze.

"Are they attacking in a car?" Georgie stared at him, and placed her eye to the hole in the wall. Her shoulders sagged in relief.

"It's Rick and T-Dog's car! I can see T-Dog driving, and there's another guy in the back, it must be Morgan." She looked away to see Dale tugging open the gate. "What are you doing? We can't just open it up, Rick will go mad." Dale looked at her as if she was insane.

"Whoever was just out there took a pop at you for no reason I can think of, other than the reason Daryl gave us. What do you think will happen if T-Dog gets out of that car? Help me open this door."

Georgie nodded at the logic, and pulled on the gates with Dale, allowing the men back into the village. As she closed the gate behind the car, she silently prayed that Rick would have an answer.


	18. Frustration

The first thing Georgie noticed when the men got out of the car, was that there were only men. Three men. No Duane. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what must have happened. She knew better than to mention it. She took a moment to take in the man she assumed was Morgan. His hair was wild and uncombed, sticking out in an unruly afro. His face was tired, and he seemed older than T-Dog, older than Rick even, if only by a few years. He walked hunched over, as if he was defeated in some way, and when he looked up at her, his eyes were red rimmed, as if he hadn't slept in a while or he'd been crying. Her heart instantly started to bleed for him, in a way she'd never felt before. She wondered how it must feel, to lose a child. She started to imagine losing Sophie, and felt a lump enter her throat. She suddenly wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him tightly. Instead she walked up to him, her hand extended.

"You must be Morgan. I'm Georgie." He stared at her hand for a moment, then closed his own around it. His grip was warm and firm. He looked at her face and pointed to his own cheek, reminding her that she was bleeding.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" T-Dog's furious voice came from behind them. The car door slammed, and Rick approached her. Both men stopped short when they saw her face. "Jesus Georgie, what happened?" Georgie looked at the blood on her hand and then back to Dale. T-Dog none to gently grabbed her face, jerking it back to him and examining it closer.

"Were, were you _shot_?" Rick peered over Ricks shoulder, gently moving Morgan out of the way.

"Yeah." Dale butted in before Georgie could answer. "Rick, I know you probably don't want to hear this, but we're in trouble. Some of us more than others." He pulled Rick aside and spoke in a low voice, trying to exclude T-Dog and Morgan from his conversation, but Georgie could still hear what was being said.

"We think there might be some white supremacists roaming around. Daryl, Glenn and Georgie found an Indian man hanging from a tree with a swastika carved into it."

"_Arab_," Georgie thought in annoyance. "_He was Arab, not Indian._" Rick placed his hands on his hips, and looked at the floor, the way he always did when he was taken by surprise. He looked towards T-Dog, who was pulling bags out of the trunk of the car-Morgan's she assumed-and turned back to Dale. Georgie squinted her eyes, trying to read his lips.

"Are you sure, that that's what we're dealing with? Nazis?" Dale nodded grimly. Rick rubbed his face. "Where is everyone else? Tell me they're not out there. Tell me..." he stopped and looked around. Seeing Georgie watching, he turned his back to her and started to walk with Dale. Georgie clenched her teeth, frustrated at being excluded again. A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she jumped slightly.

"Something troubling you?" T-Dog grabbed her shoulders and hugged her. "Sorry for snapping at you before, but dam Georgie, you're suppose to be the sensible one, the one that exercises some sort of caution. So what the hell you doing letting us in without checking who we are?" Georgie looked at Morgan and then shook her head.

"I'll tell you later ok. I gotta go see Ben. Get this stitched up. Daryl's gonna go nuts." Before T-Dog could pester her anymore, she bolted into the village towards the doctors surgery.

Making her way into the small room, Georgie could hear Ben's voice talking soothingly to someone. She glanced into the small mirror by the desk and attempted to mop up the blood off her cheek and neck. She heard the door open and close and turned her face away to hide the blood. Hopefully, the gossip about her wound wouldn't spread too far before the damage was minimised.

"I know I'm being stupid. I've been in here every day since T-Dog left. I'm just freaking out over nothing. When T-Dog was here, he calmed me down." Miao sounded close to tears.

"He's back." Georgie spoke without turning her face. "I just saw him and Rick and Morgan. They just got in now."

"Really?" Georgie looked at Miao out of the corner of her eye, not moving her head.

"Yeah. They're out there. Dale's filling Rick in on our situation, but T-Dog's just taking Morgans stuff somewhere. I guess he thinks you're at home." Georgie didn't have to look at Miao to know she was smiling. She carried on pretending to be incredibly interested in a pamphlet about Diabetes.

"What are they like? Is Morgan ok? What sort of child is Duane?" Georgie bit her lip.

"It's just Morgan. Duane didn't come."

"But why..." Ben went silent as the penny dropped.

"Best not to mention it. But T-Dog's fine. You should go see him. He's probably wondering where you are." She heard Miao cross the room and leave, slamming the door behind her.

"So, what have you done?" Georgie sighed and put her diabetes pamphlet down.

"Am I really that obvious?" She turned and faced Ben, who swore when he saw her wound. "Think you could clean this up? Maybe make it invisible?" Ben beckoned her into the surgery.

"I didn't take you to be concerned about your looks?" As she jumped onto the bed, Ben closed the door behind her, and pulled out a pair of latex gloves.

"I'm not. I just don't want it to look more drastic then it is. Daryl's already got me on lockdown. If he decides I can't even be on lookout, then I'll probably go mental."

"Wait," Ben stopped dead, cotton buds and antiseptic in hand. "This happened when you were on lookout? Are you saying someone from the outside did this?" Georgie nodded.

"Nicked me when I was sat in one of the lifeguard chairs. It stings like a bitch."

"What stings?" Georgie groaned inwards as Adele emerged from the bathroom. "Woman, what happened to you?" She stared at the cut on Georgie's face. "We told you to stay in the walls; you know it's not safe for you to be outside. Why are you so stubborn?"

"You know what Ben, forget it." Georgie jumped down off the bed and walked out of the room, ignoring Ben and Adeles calls after her.

Two days seemed to be enough to send her over the edge. She was edgy and restless, and being told off by Adele like she was a child and not her equal had been enough to make her want to smash Adeles face into the wall. She had gotten so use to being needed and being on the front lines of any battle, any struggle that the group encountered and to be left out was almost more than she could bear. She felt useless. She knew she could help and she was being left on the sideline. She stopped as she reached her house and sighed. Daryl's crossbow was by the door. No escaping an interrogation now. And she probably looked about a million times worse than she had when she first got shock. She could feel the blood setting on her neck and cheek, and her hands were covered in it. She tried to think of a reasonable argument to approach Daryl with and failed miserably. She decided just to keep her mouth shut and see what Rick came up with; although she had a sinking feeling it would just be to agree with Daryl.

She was wrong. Later that evening, there was a knock on her door. When she opened it, T-Dog was stood there.

"Can I come in?" She moved aside, allowing him to come in.

"Take a seat in there." She followed T-Dogs impressive bulk into the room, picking up Sophies discarded bear and placing it on the table. She sat herself at the end of the couch opposite T-Dog. He looked tired and stressed. "Do you want a drink of anything? Daryl left some pretty disgusting whiskey."

"I'm fine." He looked at the pictures on the wall. "Nice. That Germany?" She looked and nodded.

"Yeah. It's Brandenburg Gate." She smiled. "My father took me there once. I'd just finished secondary school, and I'd aced German. My mum took me to Russia and my Dad took me on a tour of Germany. I actually have a picture at home of me and my dad in front of the gate." She stopped, trying not to think about the one time she'd seen her dad relax and have a beer, or visiting a vodka museum with her mother. She sighed. "All that history is going to disappear. People won't remember why any of it was there." She put her head in her hands, and laughed.

"What's so funny?" T-Dog placed a hand on her back.

"We're being staked out by Nazis and I have a picture of Germany on my wall."

"It's not like it's a portrait of Hitler. There's more to Germany than the wars. I always wanted to go to the Black Forest, you know. See where all those fairy tales were set." He paused. "I was saving up to go to Europe you know. Do the whole backpacking thing. I know I'm not a student, but I always figured I'd be able to save up loads more money and see so much more..." He shook his head. "I should have just done it when I was eighteen."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I know you didn't come over to tell me about your plans for Europe. Why are you here and not with Miao?" T-Dog looked at her.

"You know why. Rick wants us out in the field. None of this hiding that Daryl's got you doing. We need to be out there, looking for these sons of bitches." His eyes narrowed. "I will not have my kid being born with these murdering klan members around. Hearing what happened to Duane really got to me. Got me thinking about how far I'd go for mine. And I tell you now Georgie, it scared me what I'm willing to do."

Georgie nodded. "I think I understand. I thought about Sophie before, about losing her. And, I know she's not my flesh and blood T-Dog, but it scared me more than anything I've been through since this crap started." They sat in silent contemplation for a moment.

"Does Daryl know Rick's changing up the rules?" T-Dog nodded.

"Oh yeah. He's not happy at all. He's worried about you more than anything. You're gonna have him stuck to you like glue tomorrow."

"Yippee," Georgie muttered under her breath. "I just managed to get him to leave an hour ago. Ranting on and on about my face and being careful. This coming from the man who decided to get up and walk around after being set on fire against doctors orders." She sighed. "How's Miao doing now you're back. Bet she's pleased to see you back."

"Yeah." A peaceful smile spread over T-Dogs face. "She's great. And Ben tells me the baby is doing fine, and he should know. I hear that she was in the surgery everyday." Georgie laughed. T-Dog went on. "We came to a decision." He twisted his body towards her. Georgie put her hands up in mock shock.

"Whoa, T-Dog, You're not about to propose are you?" T-Dog laughed.

"No no. We got thinking seriously. Anything could happen to us. And, if it did, and our kid was orphaned-" Georgie put her hand on T-Dogs, and shook her head. "-No, it could Georgie. If something happened to us, we want you, Adele and Daryl to bring it up." Georgie blinked.

"T-Dog..." She trailed off and brushed her eyes, composing herself. "Well of course I would And I know Adele would be honored. But...I don't know you want to ask Daryl." She smiled despite herself. "We were sat chatting earlier, and he asked if your baby would be 'blackinese'. And I think he was serious." T-Dog stared and then burst out laughing.

"We really need to warn Morgan thoroughly about Daryl before we introduce them."

"How is Morgan?" T-Dogs face fell.

"Quiet. I think he's just exhausted. He was out like a light. I don't really know what state of mind he's in. He's barely spoken since we left his house. Not surprising really. The last thing he did was...take care of Duane." A heavy silence fell.

"Mom?" Georgie jumped and saw Sophie stood in the doorway. "Can I have a glass of water?"

"Sure baby." Georgie walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass. "You sure you don't want something T-Dog? I think I'm gonna have a beer."

"You know what. I think I'll have one too. Or the whiskey, if you don't mind."

"No I don't." Georgie murmured. "Have as much as you want." She poured T-Dog a generous glass of the whiskey Daryl had brought over the night before.

"Can I have some?" Sophie was looking at the whiskey, fascinated.

"No you can not." Georgie tapped her lightly on the back. "Go to bed."

"Kay." Sophie reached up her arms. "Night mom." Georgie bent down and wrapped her arms around Sophie. As she hugged her, she thought of Morgan, losing his son, and she tightened her hold.

"Mom, you're hurting me!" Sophie wiggled out of Georgie's grip.

"Sorry kiddo. Go sleep yeah? I have to go do some work in the woods tomorrow, so I may have to wake you early to say bye."

"Ok." Sophie walked back through the living room. "Night T-Dog."

"Night Sophie." T-Dog waved at her as she walked up the stairs. Georgie passed him his whiskey and clinked her beer against it.

"Here's to kicking Klu Klux Klan Nazi backside."

"For the kids," T-Dog added.

"For the kids."


	19. Offguard

**Ben **

Ben sat on the porch of the house he and Adele had chosen. He felt like an old man, sat in a rocking chair watching the kids play in the dirt. Well, not so much playing anymore. The three younger ones sat chatting in the street. Carl lay casually on his side, his upper body propped up by his arm. Sophie sat crossed legged next to him, both listening intensely to something Harry was saying. Matthew was sat on the steps in front of him, holding a rifle in his hands, cleaning it meticulously, his full attention on the job in front of him. All four looked and acted like young adults, rather than children under the age of fourteen.

Morgan was with them too, watching the children, his face unreadable. T-Dog had helped to shave and cut his mane of hair, and now he looked younger and slightly fresher. But his face was still haunted and drawn, and his eyes seemed dead and lifeless. He hadn't spoken much to anyone apart from Rick and T-Dog, but he had made himself useful to everyone, fetching, carrying-even showing himself to be a capable carpenter, fixing screen doors and fixing up the walls. Ben knew that his mental state was fragile, but he hadn't observed any behavior that was causing him concern. As far as he could see, Morgan was suffering the usual symptoms he would expect from someone who had lost his son. Couple that with the isolation and extreme stress, and quite frankly Ben was amazed he was doing so well. He'd even snuck into his house with Craig checking for any signs of disturbing or unusual behavior. Nothing, just a few clothes scattered around on the floor. Ben was satisfied with that, and he'd told Rick so.

"Well, I've told him about what you use to do, in the real world, so I guess if and when he's ready, he'll talk to you." Ben nodded, but he didn't think Morgan would ever feel the need to articulate what he had been through, he wouldn't feel the need to talk it through, not with a shrink anyway. He was more like Daryl and T-Dog. When he was comfortable enough with someone, he may open up to them. For now, getting him comfortable with the group was his main objective. And whilst having him babysit the kids may seem cruel, in Bens experience, people found it easier to open up to children then to adults. It hadn't worked yet, but he was a patient man.

He wondered if the others were safe, outside the walls. The day before, Andrea, Rick and T-Dog had discovered some evidence of a camp uncomfortably close to the village.

"From the looks of the various... 'effects' scattered around the place, I'd say it was the same guys that strung up the man. Shot Georgie in the face." Andrea's face had twisted at the thought, and Ben had an idea of what she meant.

"At least we know where they are now," Rick had tried to remain optimistic. "We could avoid the area, keep away from them. And if needs be...we can ambush them. Pick them off. Not like their kind contributes much to the gene pool anyways." Ben hadn't quite believed he was hearing Rick right, but the look on his face confirmed it. Unfortunately, that hadn't been the worst part. Adele, Craig, Daryl and Georgie had come back with news possibly worse than a bunch of aggressive Nazis.

"There's a herd of walkers to the west. A big one. At least a hundred. They're just standing there. Dunno how long they've been there. They're in the clearing." Adele's face was dark and she chewed her lip. Daryl looked even more agitated then he had for the last few days.

"We cam' back soon as we saw 'em. They didn't see us, couldn't have followed us." He paused. "We're in fuckin' trouble here Rick. We got Nazis an geeks ev'ry where."

Ricks brow had furrowed with thought and he had looked at T-Dog and Dale as if for inspiration. After a silence T-Dog had spoken.

"We can hide out here. The walls are strong. Morgan's been fixing them up. If the walkers are just standing there, then I guess as long as we don't go near them they won't know we're here. As for our little _friends_ if we need to deal with them, we use crossbows and knifes. Try not to bring any attention to ourselves."

"Agreed," said Dale. "No noise. No unnecessary wondering around the outside of the walls. Attract as little attention as possible." Everyone had nodded, even Georgie. And so yet again, the plan had changed. Now only Daryl and Rick ventured outside the walls, always in pairs, switching up the times they went and the small entrances they left by, so the others out in the woods couldn't figure out a routine. Georgie, Adele and Andrea took turns hovering around the entrance with a crossbow or gun, ready to pick off anyone-or anything-that might be following them back. But for the past week, nothing had happened. There had been no movement in the forest, no sign of walkers on the horizons. And the previous day, Rick and Daryl reported that the camp seemed to have packed up and gone. That particular piece of news had made everyone relax a little.

Today, as far as Ben knew, Rick and Daryl had gone out to make one final check, this time accompanied by T-Dog. The group was more relaxed now, and were talking about the best way to deal with the walker herd, rather than worrying about any living threat. Ben wasn't convinced himself that the danger was passed, but he had managed to convince himself that he was just too used to expecting the worse. There was no reason for the group to attack them, aside from perhaps the wish for sheltered accommodation. And if that was the case, then they would have attacked long ago. No, he decided, they were ok for now.

As if to back up his point, Matthew turned and handed his rifle to Morgan. Out of the four children (could he really still call Matthew a child? The boy had proven his worth time and time again,) he seemed most comfortable around Morgan. Perhaps it was that he was old enough to understand the emotions that Morgan must be going through.

"Hey Mr Jones. Can you check this please. See if I've done it right?" Morgan stared at him blankly for a beat and then took the gun and stroked it once or twice. Ben knew full well that Matthew would have cleaned his rifle perfectly, but he could see what Matthew was trying to do. He smiled encouragingly at Matthew. Morgan examined the rifle carefully, with almost as much expertise as T-Dog or Rick. It was clear that he had either been an expert shot in his previous life, or necessity had made him on in this life. Finally he was done with the rifle and handed it back to Matthew.

"Mr Jones? Is it ok?" A moment passed and then Morgan nodded.

"It's fine. You've done a fine job." He whispered the sentence, but it was a sentence none the less. He stood and moved into the house. Ben grinned and patted Matthew on the shoulder.

"Good work kid. Keep at it." He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. It was Adele. She moved around and sat herself on his lap.

"Georgie just swapped with me. Andrea went with her to keep her company, but I reckon we're wasting our time. The supremists are gone, the geeks are either gone or dormant. I think we're ok again." She smiled and pushed Matthews back with her foot. He swung his body around and smiled at her, the burnt part of his face crinkling up. "We can get back out there kiddo. Get you hunting the big game."

"Cool," Matthew placed the rifle on the floor. "Do you think there are deer around here? Daryl keeps saying he's going to show me how to track them, me and T-Dog, soon as it's safe to." Adele looked at Ben.

"What do you think?" Ben shrugged.

"How would I know? I guess there could be. It's woodland. Isn't there a lake or something close by? A water source for them"

"Yeah another stream straight ahead. Looks like you could get your wish afterall." Matthew's grin widened even more.

"Awesome." He stood up. "When do you think they'll get back?" Ben laughed.

"Anytime soon I guess, they've been out for about...an hour?" He looked at Adele. She snuggled down onto him and put her head on his shoulder.

"Hour and a half. They're just being through this time I guess. You know, making sure." Ben wrapped on arm around her and kissed her.

"You two are gross." Matthew looked disgusted. "I'm going to sharpen my knife." He strode off, throwing a revolted look at Adele and Ben.

"You know, I really hope there's a settlement out there with some pretty teenage girls for us to stumble upon." Adele looked after Matthew with a thoughtful gaze. Ben poked her, to get her attention again.

"Hey lovebirds, not in front of the kids!" Andrea playfully shouted at the two.

"I thought you were sitting with Georgie?" Ben smirked at her. "Or can't you leave Dale alone?" Andrea rolled her eyes.

"Ok, ok, I got sloppy, I left my spare magazine in the kitchen."

"Well," Adele jokingly made a gesture with her hands. "Shoo. G'on now, go get it."

"I'm shoo-ing, I'm shooing." Andrea made a grand show of walking towards her house, laughing as she went.

"Now, where were we?" Adele twisted her body around to face Ben and smiled. Suddenly a scream ripped through the air. Adele's relaxed body stiffened and she all but jumped out of Bens lap. Andrea ran into the street followed by Dale and Glenn. Morgan appeared at the door, and the children stiffened. For a moment, everyone was still. Then another scream, this one cut short.

"Maggie!" Glenn made a dash for the nearest entrance, the one Georgie was stood at. Dale sprang into action.

"Kids, get into the house with Morgan, go on now. Andrea, follow Glenn, he's not armed. You too Adele, Ben. I'll get Craig and make sure Miao's safe." Andrea and Adele were already making their way after Glenn. Ben found the will to move his legs and followed. What he saw made his heart stop.

Andrea, Adele and Maggie were on their knees, guns pointed to their heads by three men, one with a large swastika tattooed on his neck. Glenn was lying on the floor, hand to his face, blood pouring through it. Maggie was sobbing hysterically, but she wasn't looking at Glenn. She was looking at a man who was standing over a shape on the floor. There was something strangely familiar about him. He was tall, broad shouldered, with blonde hair and small eyes. As Ben looked at him, he could see there was something off about his body. Then he figured it out, the man was one handed. The arm that was facing him ended in a stump. As he stared at the man, trying to figure out what it was he recognised about him. A movement behind him caught Bens attention and more men, all white, all with various tattoos moved through the entrance. One caught sight of Ben and pointed a gun at his head.

"Now now." He moved closer to Ben, still pointing the gun. "If you don't want any of your beautiful friends here to clock it, I suggest you stay still. And you." He pointed his gun behind Ben, at Craig and Dale. "Don't move. We've been watching you for a while. And we like the look of this place. You know, except for some of the less desirable elements." He threw a glance at Glenn, who now was lying on his back, a mans boot on his stomach. "I mean, it's a real shame about your girl there, but my friend has had his eye on her for a while. Seems to have something personal against her." He walked towards Ben, lowering his voice confidentially. "Don't ask me what, the man's crazy as a rattlesnake. Now. How about you take us somewhere comfortable and show some hospitality, and the chink there keeps his front teeth. What do you say?"

What could any of them say? Ben gritted his teeth and made to turn, but then something in his brain clicked.

"It's a shame about...what?" He suddenly took a closer look at the one handed man, and felt his whole body go into melt down. In his one remaining hand, he held a vicious looking hunting knife, which was covered in blood to the hilt. Following the mans gaze down to the floor, he realised why Maggie was crying.

Georgie was lying on the ground, her eyes open as if in shock. She was holding her stomach, as if she had a stomach ache, but her top was soaked in blood. She was looking up at the man, with a look of stunned disbelief. The man knelt down next to her and, grabbing a fist of her hair, pulled her head up to whisper something in her ear.

"Poor girl." Ben jumped at the sound of the leader's voice close to his ear, oozing with false sympathy. "Never saw him coming. Pushed that knife so far into her stomach it dammed near came out of her back. Any idea what he's got against her?" Ben shook his head wordlessly, watching as the man, with some difficulty, lugged Georgie's body onto his shoulder and strode off into the woods.

"_STOP!_" Adele scrambled to her feet and made a dash to the entrance. Without blinking, the man who had had the gun to her head shot at her, wounding her in the leg. She screamed and fell to the floor.

"Adele!" Ben made to move towards her, but felt a barrel against his head.

"I thought we said, don't do anything stupid." The man jerked Ben backwards. "Tom and Brad'll bring your little sweetheart to the house. But I think I said that we were expecting some sort of hospitality."

"What...what's going to happen to Georgie..?" Craig's voice piped up from somewhere behind Ben. "What's your man going to do with her...why did he even..." His voice trailed off. He sounded lost and very young. The man shrugged.

"I don't know. Like I said. Crazy as a rattlesnake, that Merle Dixon."


	20. Rambling

**Georgie**

The pain in her stomach was excruciating. She'd been stabbed before, but never so deeply. She knew she wouldn't die from the wound itself, but from the bloodloss. Merle clearly knew how to handle a knife. Not that she was surprised. He was a Dixon after all.

He threw her down on the ground and stood over her, breathing heavily. She tried to stand up, but he moved a boot to her chest and pushed her down to the ground. He leant over her, staring into her eyes. He had almost the same eyes as Daryl, small and a kind of grey blue colour. But they were colder and harder than Daryl's. Or she hoped they were. Perhaps she had just imagined the warmth in Daryl's. He stared at her for a few seconds, then took his boot away from her chest. He started to pace the area around her body still staring down at her. She tried to focus on what Merle was saying, but he was mumbling and rambling in-coherently. He seemed to be having a conversation, or an argument, with an invisible person.

"Shouldn't've dun that. Girls hurt bad. Daryl's gonna flip. S'own fault. Takin' up with a niggress, stead of lookin fer his own flesh." He stopped and looked into the trees back to where the town was. He laughed and took up his pacing and mumbling again.

"Always stickin it where it don belong. Cant trust no one. Can even trust mai own flesh ta look fur me. Bin out in th woods fur fuck knows how long. Was all alone til Frank found me. Then when I find Daryl, he's makin eyes with a mongrel an best friends with the nigger what locked me on the roof. Mai own brother. Betrayed by mai own brother. But..." He knelt down and looked at Georgie again. He put his one hand to her face, almost gently. His face looked full of remorse.

"Shouldn't hav hurt ya. Aint nothing against ya. Kinda lost it sweetheart. Sin ya in the woods with mai brother." His hand travelled lightly down the side of her face and rested at her throat.

"Ai can read Daryl like a book." His one hand wrapped around her throat. She instantly unfroze and grabbed at it with both of hers, trying to pull it away, but her hands were slick with blood, and Merle was a lot stronger than she was.

"Ai seen him look at ya. Seen ya together too." Georgie desperately tried to kick at his body, to push him away, but Merle simply knelt on her wound, making her gasp in pain.

"Daryl's the only family I got. An I cant have ya distractin him." He squeezed harder on her throat. "Even if ai can see why he's distracted. Fur a half breed, you're a pretty piece of ass." Summing up her last breath, Georgie grabbed at Merles hair and yanked a chunk of it out, somehow twisting her body up and kneeing him in the stomach at the same time. Cursing, Merle let go of her throat and reeled backwards.

There was no time to spare. Georgie tried to get to her feet, but lack of air and blood, made her stumble. She looked behind her. Merle was winded badly, but he was recovering fast. She half ran, half crawled away from him, her mind focused on not passing out. She crashed through a group of bushes, leaving a smear of blood on the branches. She could hear Merle cursing, and crashing after her, but she was smaller and nimbler than him, even when she was wounded.

"Run away lil girl. Ya aint gettin far. Walkers'll get cha or ya'll bleed out. At least ai can look Daryl in the eye an say ai didn't kill ya." She sank to the ground and listened to Merle walk away.

The pain was worse now, and she didn't know what to do. She couldn't go back to the town. She'd be dead as soon as she got within the walls. But she couldn't survive for long out here. She closed her eyes and tried to think.

"No Dixon taints their blood with scum like you." That was the jist of what Merle had told her before dragging her into the woods. Just hateful words from an angry racist hick. She knew that as well as she knew her own name. Aside from his patrols in the forest, Daryl hadn't left her side since he'd recovered from his burns. She had to get back to him. And T-Dog. She had to warn him that Merle was back, probably after his blood. Which meant going back to the town. Maybe she could wait on the outskirts and get to them before they got in. She grabbed at a branch and pulled herself onto her feet. She waited to gather her senses, and then started to carefully walk back the way she had come. She had barely taken five steps, when a rustling from ahead stopped her in her tracks.

Walkers? She sank to her knees. If it was walkers, she was doomed. There was no way she could outrun them now. Her only hope was that she would pass out before they could really get going on her. She scrabbled around on the floor for something heavy she could use to smash over their heads, but there wasn't even a pebble. She stared ahead, resigned to a fate she'd always feared.

The branches opened, and two strangers walked out. Two living strangers. That was good news. One was an Arab man. His hair was shoulder length, raven black, wavy. He looked unnervingly similar to the man she Glenn and Daryl had found hanging in the woods. The other was a black woman, slim yet muscular. She wore a clock, and carried a katana, similar to the weapon Adele had. The difference was in the way she held it. Clearly, she was trained, skilled and deadly. She pointed the sword at Georgie's head.

"Michonne. Stand down. She's not bitten. The Redneck stabbed her. He said so in his rambling." The Arab moved to her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, pushing her onto her back. He pulled one of her eyelids up and stared into her eyes. His eyes were so brown, they were almost black. She couldn't help staring back. He picked up her wrist and felt her pulse.

"My name is Sayid. I'm a solider. I'm going to try to reduce the bleeding, but you have to stay perfectly still and trust me. I know that may be hard for you to do right now, but you don't have a lot of choices." He Daryl's shirt off her and started to rip it into shreds, pressing wads of it against the wound. He tied strips together, and wrapped it around her abdomen, discarding the remains in the roots of a tree. All the while, the woman, Michonne, watched over them, katana at the ready to dispel of any wondering undead.

Finally, Sayid pulled her to her feet.

"Can you walk if I support you?" Georgie nodded. What choice did she have? Michonne glared at them both, but said nothing. Georgie didn't blame her: she'd have the same reservations. In fact, she did have the same reservations. She was trusting two complete strangers to help her, when experience so far had told her that strangers were bad news. But at this point, her choices were certain death, or probable death. She had to take the lesser of two evils. She wrapped her arm around Sayids neck and put all her energy into moving forward.

**Totally had to get Michonne in somewhere! As for Sayid...well I was watching Lost and Naveen Andrews is a GOD! **

**Anyway, next chapter, back to the town. Please review and let me know what you think of characters, plots, what you like and dislike. All feedback is welcome. **

**xoxo**


	21. Dispair

**Dale**

"Dale?" The whisper made Dale move his head up slightly off the cold metal slab that was the town's prison cell. He and the rest of the men were packed into one, trying to catch some sleep. Well, he and the rest of the white men. T-Dog and Glenn had been taken somewhere else. He had no idea where. He had no idea if they were even alive. The woman had been taken to the houses by the invaders. He had a sinking feeling he knew what for. The children, Miao and Morgan hadn't been seen. He hoped that Morgan had taken them and hidden them somewhere. He squinted into the dark.

"Dale, you awake?" The shadow at the bars shifted a little into the light and Andreas pale face was highlighted in the moonlight, a fresh bruise blooming on her cheek. Dale glanced over at Rick and Daryl. Rick, Ben and Craig were asleep, their heavy breathing clear. As for Daryl, he sat perched on the end of the bed. His eyes were still open, red rimmed and watery, his knees drawn up to his chest, his hand to his mouth, chewing on a hangnail. He'd been in the same position since they'd thrown them into the cell, since he'd been able to recover enough from the punch to his solar plexus to breathe without wincing. Even if he was awake, he didn't see anything. Dale moved to his feet slowly and moved to the bars, grasping Andreas hand tightly. She clasped it in both her hands and kissed it repeatedly.

"Are you ok? They haven't hurt you have they?" She trailed off. Dale placed a hand on the bruise Merle Dixon had laid on her when she had tried to pull him off T-Dog.

"I'm fine. Rick's ok. Daryl's..." he paused. "I don't know."

"Oh Dale!" Andrea's cheek suddenly became damp, and Dale knew she was crying. "They're all pig drunk, passed out in the bar. They made us serve them beer after beer, after whiskey. They grabbed us and told us to put up with it or they'd...they'd kill you." She was shaking now, and Dale could feel the anger radiating off her. "Dale they've got the keys to this cell and to the house T-Dog and Glenn are in. Merle's going crazy, talking about burning T-Dog at the stake, saying he's turned Daryl against him. Frank's got him permanently high up on something and he's just crazy. I don't know what to do Dale. What do I do?"

Dale reached through the bar and stroked Andrea's hair. "We just need to keep a level head ok. We'll figure something out. For now, you just keep your head down. Don't do anything stupid. Don't be rash. And don't tell them about the children or Miao and Morgan. Do you think you can get the message to T-Dog? I know he must be crazy with worry, but their best bet is to stay hidden." He paused, trying to think.

"Dale?" Andrea's hand tightened on his. "I tried to find the key to the cell, but...I don't know which of those bastards has it. They kept switching it around. I can try to get it off them whilst they're passed out..."

"No!" Dale spoke louder than he intended and he saw Daryl twitch slightly out of the corner of his eye. Composing himself, he lowered his voice again. "You do not take risks. You saw what they did to Glenn. You saw how they dealt with T-Dog and Daryl. We need to play this carefully. Same way we did the Governor and the prison." Andrea shook her head.

"We didn't play that Dale. Walkers came. And they're getting close to here as well. We need to move, we need to do something..."

A noise from outside the jail made them both start. Dale kissed Andreas hand and let go, pushing her hands through the bar.

"Go, go. You've got to go now." Andrea moved away from the bars, and to the door, never taking her eyes off him. She slipped through the door and was gone. Dale stood up stiffly and made his way back to the bed. Daryl was still sat in the same position, and the others were still asleep. He sat himself down by Daryl and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Daryl? Son?" Daryl didn't respond. He kept on staring unblinking. "Daryl. You need to sleep. You'll think better when you're rested." It was like talking to a statue. He tried to think of something, anything, to get a response. "Maybe, maybe she's not dead. You can't give up on her. She's a tough one. She could still be out there. Maybe she's..."

"Did you see the blood?" Daryl interrupted, his voice flat and monotone. Dale shook his head. "Fuckin' blood ev'ywhere old man. On th' floor, on th' walls. Ai knew it was hers. Soon as ai walked into the town. An when Merle come walking in, covered in blood, ai knew he done it." He placed his head in his hands and breathed deeply. "Ya don't die from a gut wound. Ya die from blood loss." He fell silent, but Dale knew what he meant. Georgie had lost a lot of blood inside the walls. Merle had dragged her out to the woods, still heavily bleeding. He had come back with blood covering him almost from head to toe. Georgie had lost a substantial amount of blood. The implication was clear. Dale didn't know what to say. He shook his head and tried to clear his mind, to think of something that would snap Daryl out of it, clear his mind just for the moment, just whilst they needed every man that was available, just until they were safe. But nothing came. He knew Daryl was right, and he couldn't begrudge him his grief. He just wished he could postpone it a little. He lay himself down and tried to get some sort of sleep.


	22. Hopeless

The next morning, cold, stiff and sore, Dale awoke. He groaned and cursed as he tried to lift himself from the prison bunk. He coughed wearily, and rubbed his aching neck. At some point during the night, Daryl had given up his silent guard and had moved to the floor, choosing to sleep propped up against the wall. Ben was sprawled out on his back, his mouth open slightly, and Rick was in a similar position. Craig however, was sat by the bars of the prison, his head leant against the bar, looking out. He seemed deep in thought, and didn't notice when Dale made his way over to him and crouched down next to him.

"How long you been awake son?" Craig blinked, and rubbed his hand over his ruined cheek and blackened eye. He'd tried to punch one of the men in the face, the one who had joined in with Merle when they'd set on T-Dog the previous day. The man had laughed and swatted him away as if he was nothing more than an irritating mosquito, punching Craig so hard in the face that Craig had dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Without missing a beat, he'd gone back to bludgeoning T-Dog, ignoring the hysterical screams of Andrea and Maggie, until T-Dogs face had been in a worse state than Glenns. Remembering the pulpy mess of blood and flesh that T-Dog's face had been, Dale was certain that the man was dead, suffocated by blood and his broken nose. That, or he'd suffered such severe brain trauma that he would have died that way. He tried to console himself with the knowledge that if this were the case, at least his chances of coming back as a walker were limited. At least he had that.

"Never went to sleep." Craig turned his head slowly to look at Dale. Dale winced. When you looked at it head on, Craig's eye was much worse that he'd originally thought. It was a horrid shade of purple, and had swollen so much that it looked permanently closed. Craig grinned ruefully and gingerly prodded the mess. "Guessin' from the way you're lookin' at me, me eye looks as bad as it feels." He shifted his body slightly and leant against the bars. "What th feck we gonna do?" Dale ignored the cursing and rearranged his legs so he was sat crossed legged next to the Irishman.

"Got no idea." He examined his hands and looked at Rick. "Unless one of these two has any plans, we're going to have to ride it out." They sat there in silence, until Craig spoke.

"He hasn't really...given up on her has he?" Dale took his time answering.

"You were there. You saw... the blood. As much as I hate to agree with Daryl on anything-especially this-we have to face the fact that..." Craig closed his good eye.

"I'm not buying it. Not until I see her dead body. And you shouldn't either." Dale opened his mouth to reason with him but Craig shook his head violently. "No. She's out there and she's ok." Dale closed his mouth. Sooner or later Craig would have to face reality. Georgie was tough, and a survivor, but she was only human. But he didn't say anything, just sat in silence with Craig.

"They're gonna kill him." Craig suddenly spoke. Dale blinked.

"Who?" But even as he said the words, he knew exactly who.

"T-Dog. Ya man with the one hand..."

"Merle is not my man." Dale felt stupid even for saying the sentence, but he couldn't stop himself. The thought of anyone thinking he was linked in any way to the half crazy, rambling, drugged up mess that was currently roaming the streets outside was more than he could bear right now.

"Kay, relax, it's just an expression." Craig didn't even flinch at Dales outburst. "That Merle. He's got a real thing against T-Dog. What's the story there?" Dale ignored him and pressed for more information.

"How do you know...when are they going to..." Craig turned his head to the prison door and lowered his voice.

"Heard them talking. They're going to do it today. Merle and some other guy. Boastin' about how they're both dab hands in the ring. They're gonna...gonna make us watch. As a warning." Craig looked a little sick. He gritted his teeth and stared with his one good eye at Dale. "So if you got any good ideas, you better start spilling them now."


	23. Death

**Morgan **

Morgan rubbed his eyes and stared blearily out at the lane outside. As soon as he'd heard the screams from the entrance, he'd snapped into action. He'd stopped Miao from running towards the noise, instead bundling her and Sophie into the closest house: Georgie's house. Carl and Harry had followed, rounded up by Matthew, who had held his gun in defensive stance. Morgan had paused only to scoop up the ammunition and gun laying in the kitchen, and then had ushered the group to the attic in the house. He'd thought this a better hiding place than in a bedroom or a bathroom. Sure enough, later that night, he'd heard the men rip through the houses, looting for drink, weapons, narcotics, anything to get a thrill or high. He'd heard their drunken brawling in the streets, hear the ugly songs they sang.

But worse than that, he'd heard the screams of the others, heard the agonised wails of the women, shrieking T-Dogs name over and over. He'd felt the silent shuddering gasps of Miao into his shoulder as they watched, horrified, as T-Dog and Glenn were hauled into a house and locked in, blood spilling from their ruined and battered faces. He'd seen the men in the group being hauled into the small town prison, looking shocked and defeated, Daryl hunched over in agony, Craig half blinded by the black eye that was already forming. And worst of all, he'd watched as the women had been poked and prodded and pawed at by an increasingly drunken group of racist scum. All the women, except Georgie.

Now it was morning, and he needed to think what to do. They couldn't hide in the attic forever. Looking out at the lane below, where the invaders milled in the street, hungover from their previous nights exploits, Morgan realised his easiest plan would have been to shoot them all in the head whilst they were still drunk. He cursed himself for being so slow on the uptake. It wasn't like he wasn't an expert shot. Many a time he'd shot at a walker from the window of the house he'd inhabited in Atlanta.

He'd never missed.

But it wasn't walkers he'd be shooting now. It was living people. He could get a shot at maybe two, three of them before they figured out where he was hiding. Maybe he could kill two more before they go into the house and into the attic. And then what? A full out gun fight in the attic? Risk the life of four children and a pregnant woman? No. That was foolishness. He sat back on his heels and thought quickly. It was likely that they would start drinking again, to numb the pain of their hangovers. He could let them steam for a while, and then, when their senses were dulled-or even better, when they passed out in the street, as most of them had done last night-he could pick them off one by one. Yes. Yes, that was a much better plan. It just needed him to be patient, and for the rest of the group not to do anything stupid.

"Just hold on guys," he murmured under his breath. "I won't mess up this time."

"Mess up what?" Morgan jumped and whirled around to see Carl sat next to his elbow. He looked up at Morgan with huge worried eyes. "Are you going to help my dad?" Morgan swallowed, and opened his mouth.

"I got an idea of what I could do yeah." Carl moved closer to the window and peered out at the street. His eyes narrowed as one of the men walked into the street. Large, dirty and unshaven, the man staggered against one of the houses opposite them. He braced himself against the wall for a moment, and then vomited onto the dusty dry floor.

"Are you going to kill them?" Morgan stared at Carl. The young boys body had gone rigid. His fists were clenched and his eyes narrowed. All the innocence had left his face, and all that remained was a cold rage. Morgan nodded, unable to take his eyes off Carl. "Good." Carl looked out of the window at the vomiting man and then turned to Morgan. For the first time, Morgan noted the revolver hanging from Carls belt. Rick must have given it to him a while back, but Morgan hadn't realised that Carl had been carrying it around. Seemingly calmer, Carl carried on speaking, his voice still full of anger, but his body calmer.

"They killed Georgie. I heard them screaming her name. And now she's not there." He looked at a sleeping Sophie. "Sophie doesn't know, but I guessed. What's going to happen to Sophie now?" Morgan didn't know what to say. Carl moved over to the sleeping Sophie and sat down by her, a protective look on his face.

"I'm going to help you kill them." A chill seized Morgan as he looked into Carls eyes and realised that this wasn't just some bravado put on by a child who didn't know better. Carl was serious. Before he could think of anything to say, a scuffling and shouting from the outside grabbed his attention. Matthew and Harry, disturbed by the noise, awoke with a start.

"What's happening?" Matthew grabbed his rifle and rushed to the window. Before he could take aim, Morgan stopped him, pointing at the sun. Better not to alert them downstairs to their presence with the glint of sunlight off metal. He and Matthew peered through the small window to see what was going on.

The group was arranged in a small semi circle, flanked by most of the invading army of fascists. Looking down at them, Morgan was struck by the range of men amongst them. Most were the usual red necked, tattoo wielding, shaved head hicks he expected most neo Nazis to be. But a few looked as if they still tried to keep an air of respectability about them. As if they could have been lawyers, bank managers, doctors in their previous lives. Morgan shuddered. They seemed excited, as if they were waiting for something to happen. Their eyes were all focused on the house that T-Dog and Glenn had been hauled into.

Sure enough, the door flew open and both T-Dog and Glenn staggered out. Glenn's face was bruised and swollen, but he seemed ok. It was T-Dog that made Morgan's breath catch in his throat. His nose was still caked in blood, and he seemed to be having to breathe through his mouth. Morgan could see that two of his teeth had been knocked out, and one of his ears seemed to have been slashed. He clutched at his side as he moved, and Morgan wondered if his ribs had been broken.

As they reached the opening of the semi circle. Glenn was roughly shoved to one side. Maggie cried out and went to run to him, but two men, one tall and closely shaven, one with skin so pale as to be almost translucent, grabbed her and pulled her back. She stood looking at him, pitifully weeping. T-Dog was thrown into the circle, at the feet of a tall, one handed man.

"Merle," whispered Carl. Harry looked at Carl.

"Isn't he, Daryl's brother?"

"Yeah. He's a prick." Carl spoke the words with pure venomous conviction. "He's a racist, drug addicted prick. He tried to feel my mom up. Shane and Daryl had to warn him off." He turned to Harry. "He's not like Daryl. He's just a waste of space." Morgan wondered when Carl had learnt to talk like this. Carl had always struck him as being the most innocent of the three boys. Had he misjudged him? Before he could dwell too much further on the question, screams from outside made the group turn to the window again.

Every single member of the group was being restrained by at least one member of the fascists. Daryl and Adele were being held by two, and in Adele's case, this was with some difficulty. It didn't take Morgan long to see why this was happening. T-Dog was kneeling on the floor, his head bowed. Standing behind him, was Merle, a revolver in his one hand, pointed to the base of T-Dogs skull.

"NO!" Morgan felt around on the floor for his rifle in a blind panic. He forgot about waiting for the evening, forgot about his well reasoned out plans for rescue. That had been before anyone was in danger. Where was his rifle? He'd put it down next to him, why couldn't he find it. He tore his eyes away from the scene and looked on the floor. Suddenly he spotted it, halfway across the room. One of the boys must have moved it there to get closer to the window. He scrambled towards it, praying that Merle was a talker, that he would have some self important blown out speech to say before he executed his friend.

The gun shot rung out just as his hands closed around the barrel of the rifle.

"NO!" He didn't realise he'd shouted out loud until Miao awoke, jerking upright in shock.

"Morgan, what is it?" He couldn't answer her. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her. He just listened to the stunned silence from the street below.

Listened for the sound of a body hitting the floor.


	24. Sacrifice

**Andrea**

Andrea froze. The man's grip on her arm tightened painfully, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were fixed on T-Dog.

He wasn't dead.

She didn't understand. She'd heard a gunshot, she could see Merle standing there with a gun to his temple, and yet there was no blood. She glanced at Adele. She looked similarly confused. Everyone did, even the Nazis.

Suddenly another shot rang out, and another and another. Then yells and screams. Suddenly she understood. They were coming from the entrance to the town. Everyone turned to face where the sounds had come from. More gun shots, more screams.

And then the unmistakable moans of walkers.

For a moment, everyone froze. Then chaos ensured. The intruders all but threw the group to the ground, scrabbling for guns, panic etched into their faces. No one made a move to go towards the entrance, where the screams and moans were getting louder.

Suddenly a man burst into the clearing. His face was ashen white, apart from the blood that was smeared across his neck and face. An angry bite mark branded the nape of his neck, as he desperately tried to stem the flow of blood.

"At the gate...there's hundreds..." his words were cut off in a gargle, as he fell to the ground. Instantly, Merle shot a bullet through his head. He still hadn't moved his gun away from T-Dogs temple.

"What do we do?" Terrified, the intruders turned to each other. There was no sense of leadership now, no sense of anyone being in charge. Andrea could see them falling apart in front of her eyes. There was a pregnant pause. No one seemed to breathe.

Suddenly, a wave of walkers flowed into the street like an unholy, decomposing river.

"Fuck this man, every man for himself!" The man holding Andrea turned on his heels and ran, throwing his weapon and ammunition to the floor in front of her. Instinctively, she grabbed it and spun towards the walkers. She was vaguely aware of other intruders running for the exit on the other side of the small town, but she ignored them. It was the prison all over again, only this time she was on the floor, not safe on a ramp above the hoard. This time, she could end up hand to hand with the un-dead. This time, there was no Georgie, Billy, Carlos or Katie to expertly cut down walkers with practised strokes and slashes. There was Adele, and that was a comfort, but her sword had been taken and stashed away. The only thing that was better, was that despite the first impressions, there were clearly not as many walkers as there had been in the prison. Although the stream was long, it was narrow. The walkers were obviously being forced through the narrow passage. And many of the Nazis, who obviously weren't as experienced in facing herds as they were, had ran straight into the walkers and were now acting as a noisy distraction. The situation wasn't hopeless.

Shots from behind her let her know that she wasn't alone. Just as in the prison, she was unable to think of anything other than shooting.

"Get back!" A voice, possibly Craigs, rang out, and a firm hand gripped her shoulder, jerking her backwards. She swung around ready to shoot, and found herself staring into Glenn's bruised face. "We need to get into the houses. All the ammunition is in there."

"You go, I'll cover you." Andrea pushed Glenn towards the house Glenn and Maggie had shared, where Maggie and Rick were beckoning wildly. She scanned the street, not able to relax until she saw Dale moving towards the door, supporting T-Dog with Adele. She followed his path to the house, ready to blast away any walker that came near him. Luckily, most of the walkers were too busy feasting on the screaming remains of the Nazis who had been too panicked to think about where they were running. The two that were left were cowering behind Rick, obviously no longer concerned about being a master race. She was about to turn tail into the house, when she was struck by a thought.

When had T-Dog gotten away from Merle?

As soon as she had the thought, her ears seemingly automatically tuned into a sound other than the moans of walkers, the screams of the dying and the gun shots. She focused in on the sound, and with a jerk of her body located its source.

Daryl and Merle were going at it, seemingly oblivious to the walkers surrounding them. It was only by some lucky miracle that neither were being eaten alive. Daryl seemed to being lead by a mix of pain and rage driving his fists into his brothers face. His swings were uncontrolled, wild, pummelling any part of Merles body he could find. Merle on the other hand, seemed amused. He wasn't even making an effort to defend himself against his little brother, rather he seemed to be goading him on.

"Daryl!" Andrea rushed towards him. If she had to shot Merle she would. It would be a late revenge for Amy. There was no doubt in her mind he had lead the walkers to the camp that had killed her. Probably the only issue Daryl would have, would be that he didn't kill him in revenge for Georgie. Daryl ignored her, still smashing Merles face. A walker came worryingly close to Daryl, arms out stretched. Before Andrea could react, a bullet smashed through its skull. Andrea had no time to wonder where it came from, she just needed Daryl to get up and out of the way. She reached out and grabbed him under his shoulders, in a restraining move she'd seen Rick use. But Daryl was a powerhouse of rage, and even though Andrea was strong, she wasn't strong enough. He shook her off, and she fell to the floor, screaming in pain as the rifle butt slammed into her spine.

"Daryl please!" She was almost sobbing in anger and frustration. "Please. Get inside, please God."

"Andrea!" Another voice came from behind her. "Take one arm." Andrea scrambled to her feet and pulled at Daryl's left arm, Ben at his right. Between them, they hauled Daryl off Merle and dragged him away. Now that he wasn't attacking his brother, something almost deflated in him. He slumped to the ground and stared at his hands.

"Come on, Daryl," Ben hauled him to his feet. "We gotta get inside now." Andrea pulled at Daryl's arm.

"Inside now. Inside Daryl." She started to coax him gently towards the house, where she could see Adele and Rick taking shots at Walkers around them. Daryl was moving, but infuriatingly slowly. She could hear Ben swearing at something, and feel bullets rushing past her face, but she ignored them all, too focused on getting to the safety of the house.

With no warning, Daryl made a dive for something on the ground. Before Andrea could react, he'd turned and had a pistol aimed square in the centre of Merles head. Merle seemed unfazed by this, and smirked in his brother's face.

"You ain't got the balls." He took a step towards Daryl, who didn't move, although his hand was uncharacteristically shaky. "Face it little brother, ya may have been the favourite son in our family, but you're not made for this world."

"Daryl!" Ben pulled on his arm trying to move him away, but Daryl shook him off.

"Leave them!" Andrea couldn't cope anymore. She'd done her best, but she couldn't justify putting herself and Ben at risk for Daryl. But for some reason, Ben wouldn't leave, kept trying to talk reason into Daryl. But the only words she could hear were Merles. It was obvious he was expertly getting under his brothers skin. For some reason, he was choosing this moment in time to employ this skills.

"Parents're dead. Whole family's dead. Ya couldn't save em could ya. Ya were too much of a pussy to see what needed ta be done. Couldn't protect em could ya?" He closed the distance between him and Daryl. Andrea couldn't move now if she wanted to. She watched the conversation unfold with a fascinated horror. She had never seen the dynamics of Daryl and Merle's twisted relationship played like this. She had always assumed Merle was stupid and aggressive. She'd never realised how manipulative he was. Neither had she given much thought to how much pressure Daryl placed on himself. Despite the growls and the imminent danger she was in, despite the screams of those inside the house, she couldn't leave. Merle was less than a foot away from Daryl, who still hadn't fired his gun. Ben was still trying to talk sense into Daryl, desperately scanning the area to see how close the walkers were coming to them. Even though there was now a consistant hail of gunfire picking off any walker that came close to them, it was still not a comfortable situation to be in.

"Did ya promise her Daryl? Promise her she wouldn't git hurt? Did ya promise ya lil coon girlfrien' how she'd never hav ta be scared again? How'd that work out Daryl?" By now Merles face was pressed up against the gun barrel. He obviously didn't think that Daryl would shoot him, even though by now he was shaking with rage. "So, what cha gonna do lil brother? Gonna shoot me? Avenge ya half caste bitch? Be a man?"

There was a pause. Then with one swift movement Merle took the gun out of Daryl's hand and pointed it at him. Ben yelled and stepped back, Andrea swung her rifle and pointed it at Merles head. Merle acknowledged her with a glance and then focused on his brother.

"Ya can point that gun at me all ya wan', I'll still blow his head off before you even pull th' trigger." He narrowed his eyes at Daryl. "Ya aint strong enuf fur this world lil brother. Ya know, I'd say I was doin' ya a favour, but ya know what? I'm jus sick of ya. Sick of ya bein' the favourite and sick of ya letting me down. So I'm doin' this cause I want ta." He cocked the gun and smiled. "G bye."

Before Andrea could react, Merles head jerked backwards. Blood trickled down his face and he fell backwards. The three of them spun around to see where the shot had come from.

"Up there!" Andrea pointed at a movement in the _roof_ of one of the houses. Morgan. It had to be. He must have been hiding in the roof, picking off walkers for them. He was defiantly the main reason they weren't currently walker chow.

"NOW! MOVE!" Andrea pulled on Daryls arm. This time, he didn't resist, just followed her to the house. The walkers were crowding around Merles body, offering yet another diversion. The only useful thing that Merle had ever done. Ben was behind them, but he wasn't moving as quickly. Pushing Daryl into the house she turned.

"Come on Ben, hurry." She beckoned to him. She couldn't understand why he was slowing down. Stopping. She started to panic, could hear Adele screaming. She screamed at him, to move to come to the house.

But he was shaking his head. And gesturing to his arm. And then she saw what she should have noticed as soon as he had grabbed onto Daryl's arm: the bloody, perfectly rounded bite mark. She saw the scene unfold in slow motion. Ben smiled sadly. He locked eyes with Adele. Adele started to bang on the window. Rick and Dale grabbed her, to keep her from running into the street. He turned on his heel and walked towards Merles body. One walker looked up and started to lurch towards him. But before it could reach him, he picked up the discarded pistol and paced it to his temple.

Andrea turned away before he pulled the trigger.


	25. Split

They had sat in the house the entire night, watching and shooting the walkers. Occasionally, a shot had rung from the roof where Morgan, Miao and the children were, taking down a walker with deadly accuracy. It hadn't taken long to kill them all. Most were dead already, but those that weren't were too interested in the corpses of the dead in the street to investigate the houses. They crowded around the bodies, and feasted on The Nazis. Merle.

Ben.

Andrea glanced into the back of the camper van where Adele lay, huddled up on the couch under a thick woollen blanket. Even though it was only late summer, and still baking hot, she hadn't been able to stop shivering. She hadn't cried over the loss of Georgie and Ben, but she hadn't done anything else. Dale said she was just like Andrea when she had lost Amy. Andrea had recoiled at the memory, and hadn't been able to but wonder how on earth she was coping. In the space of two days, she'd lost the two people she was closest to. Andrea had been near suicidal loosing Amy. But to loose two people. Someone like a sister, and the man you loved. Andrea shook her head, suddenly upset. She felt Dales hand cover hers on the wheel and squeeze it.

"I'll go check on her." He stood up, swaying a little as the van hit the bumps on the road. Andrea tried to keep her eyes on the pick up and car ahead, but she kept glancing in the rear view mirror. Dale placed his hand on Adele's head and left it there for a moment. He glanced at Glenn and Maggie and whispered something. Glenn responded, his lips barely moving. Andrea couldn't see what he was saying and frowned. She glanced at the road again.

"Shit!" Slamming the brakes on, she brought the van to a shuddering halt. The passenger door of the pick up flew open, and Miao shot out of the vehicle. She ran to the side of the road, and vomited. Morgan climbed out of the drivers side and went to her, placing a hand on her shoulder and rubbing her back. Andrea leaned out of the window. No one seemed to be covering them with any sort of gun. She frowned. Turning the engine off, she turned to grab her rifle.

"Matthew's got them." Maggie put her hand on Andrea's arm. Andrea turned to look. Matthew was indeed stood in the back, rifle in hand, his good eye trained on the area behind Miao and Morgan. He was like a miniature Daryl, totally relaxed, confident and yet focused. Andrea realised a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding.

"He's getting good," she murmured. Maggie nodded her agreement.

"Why isn't Daryl covering them?" Andrea raised an eyebrow. Maggie looked at her in confusion. "What? He's probably a better shot than Matthew? He can't just sit in the back of the truck moping." Andrea turned her body in the chair and stared at Maggie.

"He's not moping. He's mourning. Georgie," she said shortly. "I think if your brother stabbed the woman you...cared about, you'd be in some sort of shock too." She didn't know how to describe Daryl's feelings for Georgie. All she knew was that since he'd come back and seen the blood (there had been so much. Andrea could still see it flowing out of Georgie, a never ending waterfall of Scarlet liquid) and realised Georgie wasn't there, he'd been like a walker himself. He merely existed. More functional than Adele, he carried out his role in the group, keeping look out, carrying out the tasks he was assigned. He ignored suggestions of rest, attempts to talk to him, console him about both his brother and Georgie. He seemed to be willingly trying to forget their existence, as if by forgetting about them, his pain would disappear. He had almost reverted back to the way he was outside Atlanta, introverted and uncommunicative. Except at night.

Maggie flushed.

"Oh god. I never..." she swallowed. "It's just..."

"I know," Andrea said matter-of-factly. "Hard to imagine Daryl mourning." She opened the door of the van and walked towards the truck. Rick came walking from the car in front. She waved him down, frowning.

"This is not good Rick." He nodded, looking grim. She glanced into the back of the truck. T-Dog was curled up, asleep. His face was looking better, but his vision was still compromised by his incredibly swollen eye. Daryl was sat next to him, staring ahead, Harry sat next to him. Andrea drew Rick aside.

"We don't have enough supplies to last very long, a matter of days. Three of our strongest members are in shock or physically unable to do much right now. Another is dead. The only person that knew anything about medicine is dead. We have no idea where we are." She bit her lip.

"You don't need to tell me it's bad Andrea. What would you have me do?" Rick looked drained. Andrea felt bad even bringing this all up, but she needed to know that there was a plan, or that one was being made. She stared at him hopelessly and put her hand to her head.

"We just need to act like we have a plan Rick. We need to keep the groups hopes up, we can't give up."

"Keep the groups hopes up?" Rick stared at her. He somehow managed to shout without raising his voice. A year or so ago, that might have intimidated Andrea, but she'd dealt with too many assholes and dead people to be scared now. "Andrea, every time we get their hopes up somebody _dies_. How many times do you think we can keep this going? Don't you think we ought to stop hoping and start getting realistic? There is no possibility of living in this world. It's just survival. Do you understand?" Andrea couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"If I didn't know better Rick, I'd say you'd given up." Rick looked down at the ground for a moment, and then back at the car where Sophie, Carl and Craig were sat.

"I can't give up. I'm just saying we need to get our heads out of the clouds. Start living in the here and now." He rubbed the stump of his hand. "We rushed away from the town too fast. Maybe we should go back and stock up properly. Then, just keep moving. No more dreaming about settling down." He turned his back on Andrea and moved back to Carl. Andrea stood staring at his back. She felt a cold chill run down her spine.

This couldn't be happening. She couldn't let this happen. Rick couldn't give up now, dash their hopes and dreams. The only reason most people were carrying on, was because they thought there was somewhere to go. They had to believe that the sacrifices they were making were for something. She thought of Daryl and Adele, barely functioning. If they thought that they were going nowhere, what would they have to keep going for? Adele would be ok, with people milling around her, checking on her, supporting her. But no one was watching Daryl. No one but her. And what about Miao? Pregnant, she couldn't carry on like this. And when the baby came? She looked back to the truck, and made a decision.

"We're going back." The group stared at her blankly. She carried on, ignoring the death stare from Rick. "We should never have left."

"Andrea, honey." Dale moved forward, confused. "It wasn't safe there. We have to move on, find safety."

"No." Andrea gritted her teeth. She didn't have a logical argument, but she knew she was right. "Wherever we go, we are going to lose people one way or another. Nowhere is 100% safe right now. But that doesn't mean we keep running away. There is no safe zone waiting for us. We have to make it. That town is as good a place to start as any." She paused, taking in the faces of the others. "I'm going back. I'm not running away anymore." She looked at Dale. "I want you to come with me. And we're taking Daryl and Adele." She turned to T-Dog, who had painstakingly crawled to the edge of the truck and was looking at Andrea out of his one good eye. "You and Miao should come too. It'd be somewhere safe to have the baby."

"Surrounded by walkers, a prime target for looters and scum-where were you the last forty eight hours?" Rick found his voice. "It's not an option and you know it."

"It's the best option," Andrea raised her voice. If she was going to challenge Rick, she needed to show that she knew what she was talking about. "Those people only got in because we were taken by surprise. They ambushed Georgie and then overpowered us whilst we were in shock. The walkers only got in because those idiots couldn't be bothered to close the gate properly." She turned to the rest of the group, hands held out. "We just need to learn to be more careful and not give up. We need to learn, from our mistakes, even when they're as awful as those ones." Dale nodded.

"You're right." He looked at the others. "She's right. We'll go back. We'll unload the food from the RV and you can share it between yourselves, we're only a half day away. There's plenty of food there. We'll just go back. And if anyone wants to come with us, they're more than welcome." Andrea felt overwhelmed with gratitude. He didn't agree with her, she could see that. But he could see her mind was made up and was going along with her. Maybe he thought he could change her mind. But she knew they had to go back, to somewhere where they could at least play at normality .

"We're coming too," T-Dog stood stiffly, and moved out of the truck. "I'd rather have my kid and Miao barricaded in a house than a car."

"STOP!" Rick had been silent in amazement for the proceedings, but now he was vocal again. "Do you people know what you're doing? You're walking back to a death trap. We don't know if that was a whole herd of walkers, or just part of one. We left two pissed off Nazis in a house-they're probably armed by now. You think they're going to just let us walk back in? You think it will be that easy?

"What do you suggest Rick? That we just carry on being miserable, wondering the earth? Scavenging, looking for the next load of canned food? What happens when it runs out, what do we do then?" Andrea hadn't meant to shout, but her frustration was overwhelming her. She wasn't aware that she had moved closer to Rick, until she felt Matthew's hands on her arm pulling her back. He was surprisingly strong for an underfed fifteen year old.

"Guys!" Glenn rushed into the mix. "We have more options, we have to have more options then die or starve."

"Actually you do."

The strange voice stopped everyone in their tracks. In unison, Andrea, Rick, Matthew and Morgan raised their weapons. The man stopped dead in his tracks, hands held high.

"It's ok. I'm unarmed, see?" He rotated on the spot slowly. "No concealed weapons." He shrugged off his thick over coat and threw it to the floor. "I'm the back up. I followed your tracks out here. We couldn't understand why you left, but then we saw all the undead. Lucky timing though hey?" His smile wavered when no one lowered their guns. "It's me...Aaron? Eric and Abraham are behind in the trucks, my quads faster...but you never said you had transport?" He lowered his hands and looked bemused.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Morgan spoke first. "Abraham and Eric? Who the hell are you people?" The man shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, just...is Sayid here? Or Michonne?" Rick shook his head.

"No one by those names here." The strangers face went pale. He rubbed his face and stared back in the direction of the town they had just come from.

"Look. I'm pulling out a police radio ok. No weapon. I'm contacting my others. To let them know the situation isn't what it was, and to hang back." He slowly pulled out the device and switched it on. Andrea watched him warily, ready to blow his head apart if he made a wrong move.

"Abraham. Do you copy? Listen, the situation isn't what we thought. We were too late for Sayid and Michonne." An impatient voice crackled through the receiver, the words unclear. "Because the rescue mission for two may have turned into one for at least ten. Hang back. If they want to come, we'll come to you. If not, well, here's hoping they let me come back. Yeah, tell Eric...well you know." He turned off the radio, and placed it on the floor.

As he paused, trying to collect his thoughts, Andrea took a good look at the man. He was blonde, with the bluest, kindest eyes she'd seen in a stranger in a long time. But that wasn't what struck her. What grabbed her attention, was that he seemed so..._civilised_. Yes, that was the word she was looking for. He was slender, but not starved. Although there was a trace of stubble on his chin, it was obvious he had been able to shave in the last couple of days. His clothes were clean, and although there were a few patches here and there, they were in far better condition than anything they were wearing. His hands were clean and his shoes were in one piece. With a jolt, Andrea realised that this man had the means to look after himself properly.

"What do you mean, rescue mission?" Morgan spoke again, lowering his gun slightly. Andrea wondered if he had noticed all the details she had. The man-Aaron-sat on the grass, remaining in a passive position.

"That town you came from. About an hour, hour and a half east of that town is a small hunters lodge. It has a radio, which is tuned to the frequency of these." He picked up and waved the radio at them. "I come from a community of about thirty to forty people. We get along ok, but to sustain ourselves, we're always on the look out for more people. So everyday, people go to high areas with these radios and listen for people to find the lodges. About the days ago, a man called Sayid reached us. It was just getting dark. He said there were two of them, himself and a young woman. We were suppose to meet them at the town, the next day, stock up on food, and bring them back. But there were complications. One of our runners was injured in the city, so we had to scavenge medicine for them. So we were a day late in setting off. When we go to the city, we saw all the bodies, and thought the worse. But then we saw the tracks and so we followed you. And now we're here."

"So, let me get this straight." Rick stared the man dead in the eye. Andrea noticed that Aaron was not put off by this, but stared straight back. "You've got a safe place to live, a place that has sustained you for god knows how long..."

"About a year by my reckoning, "Aaron said calmly.

Andrea caught her breath, and she could hear Glenn whispering to Craig, "a year? What, do they live in a castle?"

"That has sustained you for a year, and you're just inviting strange people in?" Rick narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Well, like I said. We need people to help us sustain the place. Keep it safe and ticking over. We need all sorts of people to do that. Some people go back to doing what they did before the whole world went to pot. Some people carry on scouting and such. But everyone is vital. Abrahams girl, Rosita, she use to be a hairdresser and beautician. She does that now. Sounds silly, but it helps people relax, remind them of the old times. And they talk to her. Open up, get things off their chest. So even if you did something as seemingly trivial as, I don't know, deliver pizzas, you're welcome."

There was a heavy pause. Finally everyone lowered their weapons. Andrea looked around at everyone. They looked how she felt. Stunned. Amazed.

Sceptical.

"How do you know...that you're not inviting murderers and madmen into your town? We've met both out here you know." Dale spoke the question that was weighing on Andreas mind. Aaron smiled.

"Well usually we talk to the people for a while on the radio before we give out any promises. You can always tell. Don't ask me what it is, you just get to knowing. But, as for you guys...well I can't judge you for putting your guns in my face. That's only natural. But I don't think you're dangerous. You're protecting each other. You seem to have some sort of equality amongst yourselves. You've got children. I don't think I'm in any danger...seeing as I'm not a bad guy. Now, the only question is, do I go back alone, or do you want in?"

"I'm going." Matthew spoke almost instantly. "Me, Harry and Sophie. We'll come."

"Matthew, don't..." Morgan started to speak but Matthew ignored him, speaking directly to Aaron.

"Harry's my little brother. Sophie's not related, but she's got no parents, so she can come too. We'll bring Daryl. He's been kind of like our dad, but he's sick at the moment. He's not bitten. Someone died and he's not dealing with it. But we'll come. You don't look like the men who killed my dad. Or the ones that killed Georgie. I believe you." Around Andrea, she could hear mutterings of agreement.

"Don't you think this is something we should talk about?" Rick stared hopelessly around.

"Isn't this what we've been waiting for?" Craig walked past Rick to the RV. "Seems we have a compromise to your argument-we go to a town, but not to the one we came from. This seems like a god send. In fact, I may start praying again, like the Catholic me ma tried to raise."

"We only have a protestant church," Aaron joked. "Will that be ok?"

"Meh. I don't remember any of the prayers anyway." Craig climbed into the RV. Andrea could hear him talking gently to Adele. Filling her in on what had happened maybe? With a sigh of defeat, Rick kicked the radio back to Aaron.

"Call your men. Tell them that there are twelve of us." Aaron nodded, and turned the radio on.

"You won't regret this. There's just one thing I need to ask-and don't take offence." Ricks eyes narrowed. "Do you know what happened to those two people? The ones who asked for help? I don't want to leave them out here stranded."

"No." Andrea spoke for Rick. "The only people we encountered were white male racists. And Sayid does not sound like the name of someone who is for white power." Aaron looked at her for a long time, an uncomfortably long time. Andrea had the uneasy feeling he was almost reading her mind. Then he sighed.

"I guess we'll never know what happened to them." He raised the radio to his mouth and started to speak.

**I'm going to try something a little different soon. Subscribe to author updates so you don't miss out. **


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